Forgotten, But Not Gone
by KnightHunter
Summary: After a routine hunt, Dean is injured and has now lost all previous memories. Now, it's up to Sam to help him remember. No Wincest, ever.
1. Chapter 1

12

**Author's note**: This is the first fanfiction that I have posted here. I have enjoyed writing it my hope is that others will enjoy reading it. Obviously, I don't own Sam, Dean, or any of the other concepts from Supernatural.

Forgotten, But Not Gone

Chapter One

Sam had the gun cocked before he ever turned the corner. Dean was already up on the roof, facing the thing down. "Would it kill him to wait for me for once?" Sam asked himself aloud, pushing his legs to carry him up the stairs faster. He had to get up there. Why did Dean always have to be so impatient?

Sam threw himself up the last stairway and burst out onto the roof. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. The doppelganger had Dean by the throat, a knife poised against the vein in his neck.

How did Dean allow himself to get in that situation? Sam wondered. His brother was always so cunning and ready for anything the supernatural beings they hunted could throw at him. Yet, there he was.

Sam lifted the gun, aiming for the doppelganger's forehead. One good shot was all he needed. A silver bullet to the head would waste the thing.

"I wouldn't. Not if you want your brother to live," the doppelganger warned.

Sam hesitated. The shot was there, but this thing had already shown them its speed. He could easily kill Dean before the bullet reached him.

"Come on, Sam. Do it," Dean said.

The doppelganger pressed the blade closer to Dean's neck, drawing blood. Dean didn't even flinch. He just stared at his brother, urging him to take the shot. No regard for his own life.

As much as Dean hounded Sam about his willingness to sacrifice himself to kill the Demon, Dean was all too willing to give his own life to finish a mission. But Sam couldn't do it. He couldn't pull the trigger, knowing his brother would die too.

The doppelganger knew he had won. He smiled, his eyes shining victory. But in his celebration, his knife hand loosened its grip and Dean took the opportunity.

Spinning out and away from the doppelganger, Dean had his own pistol out and aimed in the seconds it took the doppelganger to realize that he'd just lost his advantage. Dean fired at the doppelganger as it charged him. But even as the silver bullet entered the skull of the monster, its arm connected with Dean's chest, knocking him not only off balance but off the roof as well.

Sam was at the roof's edge before the doppelganger even hit the ground, but it wasn't soon enough. His brother was out of reach and quickly falling to his death. Sam yelled, cursing himself for not having control over the telekinesis he apparently possessed.

Dean managed to reach out and grab a ledge at the last second, catching himself, but the ledge crumbled in his hand and he was falling again, hitting the pavement with a dull thump.

Sam continued pacing the hospital halls. He barely remembered rushing down the stairs to his brother's side. He did however remember the relief he felt when Dean's heartbeat thudded under his fingers. The drive to the hospital had been a blur, but he still remembered asking the ambulance driver if they could go faster.

Now, two hours later, Sam was still waiting for answers and praying to every deity he could think of that his big brother was okay. When he saw the doctor smile at him, Sam felt a flood of relief. "He's okay?" Sam asked, needing to hear the confirmation.

"Physically, he should be fine. He had a concussion from the fall, but he was very lucky. He dislocated his shoulder, catching himself, but it will heal in a few days. We're going to keep him overnight for observation, just as a precaution, but he should be fine to go home tomorrow."

"Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded. "Go ahead."

Sam flew down the hall and into his brother's room. Dean was propped up in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice Sam step in.

"Hey," Sam said. "How do you feel?"

Dean glanced over at Sam and frowned. "I'm okay."

"Good. The doctors said you could check out tomorrow."

Dean nodded and continued staring at Sam.

Sam waited a few moments for Dean to say something, make some smart-ass comment, tease him for being so slow getting to the doppelganger, ask if the monster was dead. But Dean was silent. Finally, Sam spoke, "What's wrong, Dean?"

"Is that my name?"

Sam would have thought he was joking if it hadn't been for the serious expression on his brother's face. Still, Sam was sure he must have heard wrong. "What?"

"If I'm Dean, then who are you?" 

Sam blinked a few times. "You don't remember?"

Dean didn't answer, just stared hard at Sam.

"I'm your brother. My name's Sam. Dean, what's going on? You don't remember anything?" 

Dean looked down, studying the hospital blanket spread over him.

"I'm going to talk to the doctor," Sam said, rushing out of the room.

"Amnesia," the doctor confirmed. "It's not all that uncommon after head trauma. The chances are good that it's just temporary."

"So, he'll remember everything eventually?" Sam asked, clinging to that hope.

The doctor nodded. "Probably. Most patients with this kind of amnesia get their memories back in time."

"What do we do until then?"

"Take him home. Treat him normally. Try to keep the same routine you've had in the past. Surround Dean with familiar objects, people, places. This could help trigger his memories. Most importantly, be patient with him. Your brother is going through a difficult trial. He'll need your support."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

Sam took a deep breath before entering Dean's room. "Hey, Dean, you almost ready? The doctor said you could check out any time now."

Dean pulled on the shirt Sam had brought him the night before and slipped into his leather jacket. As he moved, Dean's necklace caught Sam's eye. It was on the floor, completely unnoticed by Dean.

"Dean, wait. Your necklace," Sam said, stooping to grab it. "You don't want to forget this." 

Dean stared at the necklace, turning it over in his hands. "Why not?"

"Because it's special to you," Sam said.

Dean seemed to accept the answer and slipped the necklace over his head.

Dean seemed perfectly content to follow Sam through the hospital and outside to the parking lot. As Sam removed the keys to the Impala from his coat pocket, he noticed that Dean had been about to walk past the car. He didn't recognize his car, Sam thought.

"Here she is," Sam said, patting the car's exterior.

Dean stared the car over. "This is our car?"

"Your car," Sam corrected. He waited for a reaction. Waited for Dean to smile at "his baby," but Dean's face was blank. Finally, Sam said, "Well, what do you think?"

"It's kind of old, and it looks like its seen better days," Dean said, staring at the car.

A lump formed in Sam's throat, making speech impossible at first. Dean loved that car. How could he not remember that?

"Dean, this car is your baby. You love it. It's been your favorite possession since Dad first gave it to you," Sam explained.

"Oh," was all Dean said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

Sam slid into the driver's seat and started up the engine. "You're not even gonna tell me to be careful with her?" 

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because you hardly ever let me drive your baby," Sam answered.

Dean just stared at Sam, before turning back to the window. "I don't care if you drive."

Sam wanted to scream, but instead he simply put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

It wasn't like Sam wasn't used to silence. Dean was often sullen and when he got in one of his moods, they might go for hundreds of miles with no conversation. But, somehow this was different. Dean wasn't just concentrating on their next mission or brooding about something that had gone wrong on their last mission. This time, Dean was just staring out the window, as if the fields they passed might hold his missing memories.

After half an hour of deafening silence, Sam couldn't take it anymore. If Dean wouldn't talk, music would have to fill the void. Sam popped in one of Dean's favorites, a Blue Oyster Cult cassette.

Dean didn't even seem to notice the music, just kept staring out the window. Sam watched his brother, giving more of his attention to Dean than the road. When Dean's favorite song on the tape came on, Sam felt like he'd been punched.

Usually, Dean would sing along with the lyrics he'd long ago memorized. He would pound the imaginary drums in front of him and nod his head along to the tune. But this shell seated beside Sam didn't do any of that. He just sat, barely moving.

Sam felt like crying. His brother was seated not three feet away, but Sam felt he had lost Dean. It was as bad as if the doppelganger had killed Dean. Either way, the monster had stolen his brother away and Sam was powerless to get him back.

"You okay?" Dean's voice broke into Sam's thoughts and he turned to see that his brother was staring at him.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"'Cause you look upset," Dean noted.

Sam sighed. "I just wish you had your memory back."

"Me too," Dean said, turning back to the window.

They really had no reason to stop at the motel. There was at least another hour of sunlight left and Sam wasn't tired, but he just couldn't stand being in that car anymore. So, when Sam saw a sign for a motel, he pulled off.

Sam checked the two of them in to a room and threw some stuff in a bag, while Dean watched, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. As soon as Sam had some things thrown together, Dean grabbed a bag and headed for the room.

Sam put the stuff down in the corner and turned to see Dean watching him from his seat on the edge of the far bed. "Are we criminals?"

The question caught Sam by surprise and before he could formulate a good response, he was laughing. Dean stared at him, frowning. Sam shook his head, "No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, we have too many clothes for this to be a run-of-the-mill road trip. The credit card in my wallet doesn't say 'Dean' on it. It says 'Kurt'. And when you opened that trunk, I noticed the weapons. I may not remember anything about myself, but I'm pretty sure most people don't carry fake id and travel with an armory in their trunk."

Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean's mind was still intact. If he could deduce all of that, maybe there was hope that the memories were still in there too.

Sam shook his head. "We're not criminals, but you're right. We're not exactly normal."

Dean stared back silently, waiting for the explanation.

"This may sound a little strange, but we hunt demons and any other supernatural thing we come across."

There was silence a moment before Dean said, "Are you sure you're not the one who hit your head?"

"It's true, Dean. Our mom died when we were little and our dad trained us to hunt these things. He kept this journal." Sam pulled their dad's journal out of his jacket and flipped it open in front of Dean. "This tells about all of the things Dad has hunted or researched. You came and got me at college so we could hunt together. We've been on the road together for over a year."

Dean flipped through a few journal pages and stared from the book to Sam. Sam tried to be patient. He had to remind himself that this was all new to Dean; he was hearing it all as if for the first time. Anyone would be overwhelmed by that information.

Dean closed the journal and turned it over in his hands. "You said this was our dad's?"

"That's right."

"Where is he?"

Sam drew in a breath. He should have been expecting that question. It was a logical response to what Sam had just said. Sam sank to the bed across from his brother. "Dad, um, he's… He's dead, Dean."

Dean stared down. "For how long?" 

"A few months."

Dean nodded, his jaw set. "How did he die?"

"We don't know." It wasn't exactly a lie. The two didn't know exactly what had happened. But both boys had managed to fit the pieces together. One minute their dad was okay, recovering from minor injuries while Dean lay dying in a coma. The next minute, Dean made a miraculous recovery and their dad was on the floor, dead. And the colt, their one hope of stopping The demon for good was gone. The answer was obvious: their dad had made a trade, a fatal one.

It had taken Dean weeks to admit just how much he was hurting over the loss of their father. Sam had seen the pain in his big brother's eyes and listened to Dean's rough voice crack with emotion. And Sam would be damned if he was going to do anything to bring that pain back to his brother. Especially not now, not when Dean wasn't strong enough to handle it.

"But you think it was something… supernatural?" Dean prodded.

"Maybe," Sam said.

"Were we with him when he died?"

Sam shook his head.

"So, he was alone," Dean said.

"He knew the risks, Dean. We all do. He died protecting people from evil. It's what he would have wanted." Sam left out that it was Dean that their dad was protecting. Dean didn't need that burden.

Dean didn't look up, just sat staring at the floor.

Sam picked up their father's journal and placed it in gently in his bag. Sam turned back to Dean, but he still wouldn't look up. "Are you hungry?" Sam asked, suddenly realizing that they hadn't eaten all day.

Dean shook his head and scooted back, laying his head back against the headboard of the bed.

"Okay. We'll, I saw a diner across the street. I'm gonna run and get something to eat. I'll be back soon, okay? Just wait here for me."

Dean looked up at Sam and cocked an eyebrow. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" 

"I'm not four."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, right. Uh, I'll be back in a minute."

Sam was only gone about ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He hated leaving his brother alone. It wasn't fear, exactly. Sam knew Dean would be safe there in the motel room. It was more that he didn't want Dean to feel alone.

Dean was lost, vulnerable and stumbling through the darkness. He shouldn't have to be alone too. Even if Dean didn't remember him, Sam intended to stick by his brother's side until Dean was his old self. Sam had resolved that at least Dean wouldn't be physically alone until he was better.

Sam fumbled with the key in the lock, trying twice to open the door. When he finally got back inside the motel room, Dean was watching TV, a comedy. But Dean wasn't laughing. In fact, he didn't even seem to be paying attention to the screen.

Sam put a cup and burger on Dean's nightstand. "I thought you might be hungry later," he explained.

"Thanks," Dean said, not moving.

Sam went to the table in the room and ate his meal in silence. When he finished, he threw away the trash and prepared for bed. He even lay down, but he was hesitant to go to sleep.

Sam wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but he knew that it was still night. The room was completely dark, except for the sliver of light escaping from under the bathroom door.

Glancing over at Dean's bed, Sam saw that it was empty. He stood and went to the bathroom door. It was already open a bit, so he pushed it all the way open, finding Dean sitting in the corner, reading.

Sam came inside, noticing that the book in Dean's lap was their father's journal. Dean looked up as Sam approached. "I thought I'd do some research." 

Sam grinned, squatting down beside his brother. "That's funny, you usually hate research."

"What was he like?" Dean asked.

"Why?"

"I don't remember anything about him. Just tell me about him. Was he a good dad?" 

Sam sat on the cold tile of the bathroom. "Yeah. He always took care of us, wanted to make sure we were safe. He loved us a lot."

Dean nodded. "Good."

"Let's go back to bed. Dad's journal will still be here when you wake up."

"I'm not tired," Dean said.

Sam sighed. "You should try to get some sleep anyway. We'll be driving again tomorrow."

"Where?" 

"I'm not sure yet. Wherever I can find us a new job." Sam neglected to mention the newspaper articles he'd found suggesting supernatural activity in Arkansas. From the article, it sounded like werewolf activity. Even on a good day, werewolves were difficult adversaries. There was usually more than one in an area and if you fought one, you'd have to deal with the whole pack. Plus their strength and speed made them difficult to beat. There was no way Sam was going to put his weakened brother in a fight that dangerous. He'd just have to find something a little easier.

"I'll look tomorrow," Sam said. "Come on."

Reluctantly, Dean handed Sam the journal and stood.

Sam ordered breakfast for both of them and brought it back to the motel. Dean was never up before seven on his own, so Sam felt safe in leaving him to retrieve the food. But when Sam was confronted with an empty room, he felt a wave of terror and nearly dropped the food and coffee.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's note**: Okay, let's hear it. I am dying to know what others think of my story. Please write responses.

P.S. I know that Dean does not seem like Dean much now, but I promise he will show some Dean traits in the future even in spite of his amnesia, just be patient.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Still don't own Supernatural. However, in this chapter, you will meet a character that is purely from my own imagination. Hopefully, you'll like her. Usually, I prefer to allow the boys to sort their problems out alone, but she seemed to fit with the story, so I put her in. Let me know what you think. More mild swearing in this chapter, but nothing stronger than what they say on the show.

Chapter Two

Taking a deep breath, he set the food on the nearby table and rushed farther into the room for some clue as to where Dean could be. "He can't be far," Sam thought, feeling the keys to the Impala still in his jacket pocket. Sam was just about to charge out to look for his brother when he heard sounds coming from the bathroom.

Sam hurried in to see Dean bent over the toilet, heaving. Sam ran over and patted his back. When Dean stopped, he leaned back against the bathtub. Sam touched his brother's forehead. It felt normal and Sam felt grateful that at least Dean wasn't running a fever.

"Dean, what happened?" 

Dean's forehead was scrunched up and he squinted up at Sam. "My head hurts," he whispered.

"Come on. Let's go back to the room. You can lie down there," Sam said.

Dean allowed Sam to help him to his feet and lead him back to his bed. Once there, Sam tucked him in as though Dean were a young child. Dean didn't say anything and Sam couldn't help thinking that Dean, if he were his normal self, would have so many things to say in this situation. Things like, "I'm not two, Sammy. I can tuck myself in" or "Are you gonna read me a bedtime story too?"

Sam stood. "I'm gonna get you some aspirin for your head."

As Sam moved, he noticed that Dean shut his eyes in pain at the light now hitting him. Sam closed the curtains, grabbed some pills and set Dean's food and coffee on the nightstand beside him.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since before we found the doppelganger. You need to eat before you take the pills." 

"Doppelganger?" Dean asked, frowning. "What is that?"

Sam sat down on his bed and sighed. "It's a creature that takes on the appearance of another person and then wrecks havoc on that person's life."

"And we were hunting one?"

"Yeah. We found it and we were fighting it on a rooftop, but you got knocked off the roof. That's how you hit your head."

"Did we kill it?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled. "Yeah. You killed it, Dean, as you were falling off the roof."

"Good." 

"Try to eat a little."

Dean pulled himself up and managed to eat about half of the sausage biscuit Sam had brought him. He took a drink of the coffee and made a face. "Is this black?"

"Yeah. You always take your coffee black. It's how you like it."

"Oh, okay." Dean took another drink and swallowed the aspirin Sam handed him.

"Try to get some rest," Sam said.

"You said we were leaving today."

"Not until you feel better."

"I'm okay," Dean said. "We can go now."

Sam smiled, seeing a glimmer of his brother shine through for a second. "No, it's okay. We can wait another day. I haven't really found anything for us to hunt yet, anyway. I'll do some research while you rest."

Dean slid back in the bed and closed his eyes while Sam went to his laptop. When Sam looked up a few minutes later, Dean's mouth was open and he was breathing rhythmically.

Two hours later, Sam was reading an article from a Colorado newspaper that had a definite supernatural feel to it. It mentioned a group of hikers who had gone missing. Cops had searched the area, but found nothing. Sam ran through possible culprits in his head: a Wendigo, an Ogre, maybe a goblin. Any of those would be a difficult foe. Wendigos and Ogres were both stronger and faster than humans. Goblins could be sneaky, luring humans into traps. Dean just wasn't ready to face these.

"Did you find something?" Dean asked, startling Sam.

Sam looked up, surprised he hadn't noticed that Dean was awake and sitting up in the bed. "Not really." 

Dean frowned. "You're lying, aren't you?"

"Why would you say that?"

"I'm not sure. It's just a feeling. Am I right?"

Sam sighed. "Okay, I've found a few things, but most of them are really dangerous and I'm just not sure that-"

"-I can handle it right now?" Dean finished.

"I was gonna say I'm not sure that it's a good idea that we go after them yet."

"Same idea," Dean said, standing. He came over beside the table. "I know that I don't remember, but I'm guessing our lives were never really safe."

"No."

"But we do this job anyway."

"Yeah." 

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because we save people."

"Did people suddenly stop needing saving?" Dean asked.

"No." 

Dean shrugged. "Then we still have a job to do."

"But Dean, you don't remember how to do it. You can't hunt without remembering how. It's too dangerous. You could get hurt."

"So, show me," Dean said.

Sam laughed incredulously and leaned back. "Dean, it took Dad years to train us. I was eight before he let me come on a hunt with him. I can't teach you eight years of skills in a few days."

Dean shook his head. "Those memories have to be in here somewhere. Maybe you can just trigger them somehow."

Sam sighed, staring at Dean. "Okay. We can try it."

"What's in here, again?" Dean asked, staring at the pistol in his hands.

"Iron rounds. Pure iron repels spirits. You can also use them on some other supernatural things, like shtrigas."

"What's that?"

"It's like a kind of witch." 

Dean nodded, extending his arms and aiming the gun. The two of them had found a wooded area off the road to use for training. It was far enough from town that no one would hear the shots and it was far enough from the road that no one would see anything.

Dean fired at the cans Sam had set up and instead hit the tree far to the side. Dean let the gun drop and sighed in frustration. After several shots, his aim hadn't improved, even after Sam had demonstrated the proper technique and helped him position the gun correctly.

"It's okay," Sam said. "You'll get it eventually."

"Did I used to be good at this?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. You had great aim," Sam said.

"Then why can't I do this?" Dean said

"Just give it time. I'm sure it will come back to you." 

"This sucks. I feel like a little kid."

"Just be patient. The doctor said your memories will come back in time."

"Might. He said they might come back and that's easy for you to say. You don't know how it feels to walk around with no memory of who you are. My whole life is a blank. Except for the two days I've spent with you outside of the hospital, I don't even know you."

"You think this is easy for me?" Sam asked, feeling his temper slip away from him. "Watching my brother struggle to do things that a week ago he could do in his sleep. Watching you look at me like I'm a stranger. I lost something too, you know."

Dean shook his head. "I know. I just… feel lost. Like I don't know what to do next. I can see you watching my reactions and I know I'm doing it wrong. I just wish I knew what the right way was." 

"Dean, it's okay. I'm not upset with you. I'm just glad you're alive. When I saw you fall off that roof, I thought…"

Dean nodded, staring at the ground instead of Sam. "Maybe things would have been better if I had died."

"Don't you say that," Sam snapped. "You're all I've got left. I lost my mom, my dad and my girlfriend. I can't lose you too."

"You already have."

"No! No, don't talk like that. You're alive. I don't care if you're the same Dean I remember or not. All I care about is the fact that my brother is still here with me. Even if you never get your memories back."

"Maybe we should try something besides weapons training," Dean said, handing Sam the gun.

"Okay. How about hand to hand combat?"

"Okay." 

"Try to pin me to the ground," Sam instructed, dropping into a lower stance for more leverage.

Dean's movements were slower and less fluid, allowing Sam to predict his actions and avoid them. Sam didn't even attempt to pin Dean, knowing he could do so easily at this point. Sam simply deflected Dean's attacks.

Twenty minutes later, Dean was sweating and no closer to pinning Sam. It seemed that along with Dean's memories of his family and past hunts, he had also lost his knowledge of fighting techniques.

Sam tried to offer helpful advice, but after dodging another of Dean's grabs, Dean straightened. "Dammit! I'm never gonna get this."

"Sure you will. It just takes practice. I was bad at this when I first learned too. You had to show me what I was doing wrong a million times. Come on. Let's quit for today. We'll practice more tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Dean agreed, helping Sam pack up the weapons and supplies. When their things were loaded in the duffel bags, they began the trek back to the parked car. The walk was a quiet one and Sam could tell that Dean was disappointed in his lacking abilities. Dean had always been so good at everything. As a child, Sam used to watch Dean and wish that he could one day be as good as his big brother.

When they reached the car, they drove back to the motel for another night. Sam forced his brother to eat at least part of a hamburger before going to sleep for the night.

The next day, they returned to their previous spot to practice more. This time, they began with wrestling and Sam started by giving Dean advice on tackling someone. "Try not to give away your moves and don't commit yourself to a move. Always be ready to change tactics in case your first choice doesn't work." Dean nodded trying to take it all in.

But when they actually started, Dean seemed to struggle in putting the advice into practice. And when Dean did attack, Sam flipped him to his back. It was only when Dean didn't get up that Sam got worried. Sam knelt by Dean. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean's face showed pain. 

Sam shook his head, berating himself for not being more careful. Dean was new at this. He should have been easier on him.

"You didn't do this, Sam. I already had a headache when we came out here," Dean said, reading Sam's expression.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam demanded.

"I thought I could ignore it."

"Let's go back to the motel. You can lay down."

Dean stood and helped Sam gather the materials. But on the walk back to the car, Dean stumbled, falling to the grass. Sam bent to help him up just as Dean began throwing up. When he finished, Sam pulled him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Dean said, nodding and instantly regretting the head movement.

When they reached the motel, Sam dropped the supplies at the door and led Dean to his bed.

The headaches seemed to become part of the routine. Dean suffered from a headache that typically grew worse as the day progressed. He began to end most evenings by vomiting whatever he had eaten that day. Dean didn't have much weight he could afford to lose and Sam worried as he watched Dean vomit his daily calories day after day. On top of that, Dean seemed to tire more quickly from any physical activity. Unfortunately, remaining asleep seemed difficult and after only a few hours, Dean would awaken, unable to return to sleep.

Sam considered taking Dean back to the hospital, but at the mention of the hospital, Dean insisted that he would be fine. During the day, Sam tried to keep Dean hydrated, forcing him to drink as much water as he could tolerate.

Unfortunately, Dean's headaches and fatigue weren't their only problems. After a week in the motel, their credit card was rapidly reaching its limit. So, Sam decided they had no choice but to move on. Sam packed up their things and loaded the Impala while Dean was still resting. Dean woke up just as Sam reentered the room.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

"We have to go, Dean. How is your head today?"

"I'm okay," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"Are we out of money?" Dean asked after several minutes of silence.

Sam frowned and glanced over at Dean. "How did you know?"

Dean shrugged. "It's the only reason I can think for you moving us now." 

Sam sighed. "We still have options. Don't worry. We'll be okay." 

"More fake credit cards?" Dean asked.

"That's one option." Of course, that plan only worked when they remained on the move and Sam wasn't sure how well Dean would handle car rides with his nearly constant headaches.

"What else did we do for money?" 

"Sometimes we got jobs," Sam said, failing to mention just how rare that was or the fact that Dean usually hated that option. It was too long term and just not efficient enough for hunting.

"Then we can do that again. Right?" Dean asked.

"I'll look for a job in the next town." 

"I can get a job too." 

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "You're not well."

"I know I can't remember things, but it doesn't take a genius to ask, 'Do you want fries with that?'" Dean said.

"I meant your headaches."

"I know what you meant, Sammy," Dean said, turning back to stare out the window.

"What did you call me?" Sam asked, turning to look at his brother.

Dean turned back, frowning. "I called you by name."

"No, no you called me Sammy. Why did you call me that?"

Dean shook his head. "I…I don't know. It just came out."

Sam pulled the car to the side of the road. "Do you know what this means? It means that maybe you're starting to remember. You used to call me Sammy all the time, even though it drives me crazy. Or maybe because it drives me crazy. But this means that you remembered. If you can remember that, you can remember other things."

"It was just a name, a common nickname for Sam. It might not mean anything," Dean said.

"But it might mean you're starting to remember." 

Dean nodded. "I hope so."

After looking for work in three towns, Sam finally found a place so desperate for workers they hired him on the spot, without the usual required references. It wasn't an ideal job, but it was work and it was money and they agreed to let Sam start that day. There was no motel for Dean to go to, so he came in with Sam.

"This is your new job?" Dean asked, staring around at the dozens of screaming children.

"They needed more servers. High turnover rate," Sam explained. "Not a lot of people want to work at a restaurant for kids."

"Gee, I can't imagine why," Dean said.

Sam smiled. "At least it will help pay for a place to stay."

"What about new credit cards?"

Sam sighed. "I've been thinking that maybe we should take a break on the hunting for a while."

"Because of me."

"I don't want to see you get hurt." 

Dean shook his head, his tightened jaw a signal to Sam that he was angry with this

choice. "We have a job to do."

"Dean, you can't do it right now. You can't remember how to fight or fire a weapon. If you go out there like this, your chance of getting hurt is not only possible, it's likely."

"And if we don't go out there, other people will get hurt. Right?"

Sam straightened, drawing himself up to his full height, a good three inches above his brother. "Better them than you."

"This isn't right. And you know it."

Sam sighed. "I'm not suggesting we stop hunting forever, just until you get your memories back."

"That may never happen."

"Then, I guess we'll have to start living normal lives for once."

Dean wasn't happy. That much was obvious from the way he glared at Sam throughout his shift. But Sam wasn't about to change his mind. Hunting was dangerous on a good day. And now, Dean was no better equipped to hunt the supernatural than any average person on the street.

Sam simply tried to ignore Dean while he followed the waitress training him. "This is a simple gig, Sam. Don't worry. You'll have it down in a couple of days. I've only been here a month and I feel like I could do it in my sleep."

Sam nodded and watched while Elizabeth taught him how to write down the orders, how to work the scanners and what the various amounts were for the prizes available for the children. "So, that's your big brother, huh?" Elizabeth asked, while the two of them cleaned up a table from a large group.

"Yeah. Sort of."

Elizabeth smiled. "Sort of? How is he sort of your brother?"

"He hit his head and now he doesn't remember me."

Elizabeth gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. Is he gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I mean except for the amnesia."

"And you guys just got into town today?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have friends here?"

"No. We just needed work."

"Do you…have a place to stay?" Elizabeth asked, averting her eyes.

"You mean besides our car? No."

"You could always stay with me."

Sam stopped wiping down the table and looked up. "You don't even know us. We could be psychos or something."

Elizabeth grinned. "Somehow, I don't think so. Anyone who takes a job like this to take care of his brother isn't a psycho. I have an extra room. I'm not trying to hit on you, Sam, if that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't worried," Sam said, smiling.

"Honestly, you'd kind of be doing me a favor. See, I used to have a roommate, but now it's just me and it's really quiet and it would be nice to have other people."

Sam nodded. "We'd really appreciate it. Thanks a lot, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled. "No problem."

"So she just offered us her apartment?" Dean asked, as they followed Elizabeth's car.

"She said she was lonely."

Dean grinned. "Sammy, you dog." 

"Not like that!" Sam said, smacking Dean on the shoulder. "She's got an extra room."

"One bed?" 

"I assume."

"I am not sharing a bed with you," Dean said. He frowned, "We never used to share a bed, did we?"

Sam laughed. "Uh, no, not since I was like five."

Dean nodded.

Sam turned the Impala into a parking lot beside an apartment complex and parked beside Elizabeth. Sam quickly tossed some clothes into a duffle bag and the brothers followed Elizabeth up the stairs to the third floor.

Elizabeth opened up her door and held it open for the boys to walk in behind her. She flipped on the lights. "Here we are. Home, sweet home."

"Wow," both boys said, staring around.

The apartment was spacious and nicely furnished. "How much do they pay you at that restaurant?" Dean asked.

Sam hit Dean's shoulder and glared at him for voicing such a question, but Elizabeth only smiled. "Not enough to pay for a closet in this building. But I have a father who is in real estate and he insisted on getting me a nice apartment. You know, it would look bad for his daughter to live in a shack while he sells mansions. The bathroom is the door in the middle of that hall. My room is on the left. You guys can have the right room."

"We really appreciate this, Elizabeth," Sam said.

"You mentioned that, Sam, but it's you two who are doing me a favor. Just make yourselves at home."

"Is this your boyfriend?" Dean asked, pointing to a picture of a boy in his young twenties on the mantle.

Elizabeth frowned. "Um, no, actually that's my brother, Everett. He used to share this apartment with me. We were twins."

"Did he move?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath. "He died." 

"I'm so sorry," Sam said.

Elizabeth shook her head. "It was two months ago. He was on his way home from work, when I called him and told him we were out of bread. I asked if he could pick some up. He went to the convenience store a block away and walked in on a robbery. They shot him in the head. He was dead before the ambulance ever got there." 

Sam hugged Elizabeth, who was now sobbing. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I just can't help feeling like it's my fault. I asked him to stop. If I had just waited until morning to get more bread, none of this would have happened."

"Elizabeth, you listen to me. This isn't your fault. Do you understand?"

Sam turned to look at his brother, who sounded so much like his old self. That soft, yet firm tone. The same tone he used with victims of supernatural attacks. The tone that commanded them to listen and soothed their pain away. It was a gift Dean had had for as long as Sam could remember.

Elizabeth was staring at Dean too. She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to go all emotional on you. You guys just needed a room."

"It's okay," Dean said.

"Um, let me just go and get some clean sheets for your bed." And Elizabeth left the room quickly.

"Dean?" Sam asked, staring at his brother.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Are you…you?"

"Who else would I be?" Dean asked.

"I mean, are you back to your old self again?" 

"I don't have any of my memories back."

"Then, how did you… do that?" 

"Do what?" 

"That thing you always do with victims to make them feel better. How did you know what to do?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Just seemed like the right thing to say, I guess."

Sam smiled. "I think you're getting your memories back without realizing it." 

"I think that's something I'd notice."

"First you called me Sammy. Now you're acting like your old self. I mean maybe it's all connected."

Dean sighed. "Maybe."

"Um, I've got your sheets, guys," Elizabeth said, re-entering the room. 

"Thanks, Liz." 

Elizabeth smiled. "That's what my brother used to call me."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"No, no, it's okay. I like hearing it again. Um, I'm supposed to open tomorrow, so I'm gonna go to bed. But feel free to stay up. There's food in the fridge and the TV gets cable. So, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," Sam and Dean said.

"Good night," Elizabeth said, disappearing down the hall.

"She's nice, Sammy. You've got good taste."

"She's not my girlfriend, Dean." 

"No, but she wants to be."

"Why? Because she's being nice to us. You know people can be nice without sex being involved."

"Girls don't just open up their apartments to complete strangers for no reason. I see the way she looks at you, Sammy. She's interested. Trust me."

Sam shook his head. "You sound just like you used to."

"Good. I guess I'm learning to fake it better. Now go to bed. You have to work tomorrow, too, Sam."

"Why don't you take the bed? I'll sleep on the couch," Sam said.

"Because you're the one working and you need your sleep. I'll be fine out here. Now, go."

"Dean-"

"Go, Sam. This is not a discussion."

"Okay. I guess you can always sleep tomorrow while we're at work, if you need to."

When Sam left for work, Dean was sleeping on the couch. He left as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing his brother. Sam was at work for the noon to close shift. Elizabeth's shift overlapped with his and before leaving, she handed him a key. "Now, you can let yourself in." 

"Thanks. Dean and me, we'll try not to stay too long."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. I enjoy the company." 

Sam finished his shift and went home after cleaning the restaurant. When he arrived back at Elizabeth's apartment, he let himself in and found her making dinner. "Hey, how was work?" Elizabeth asked, as he took off his coat.

"It was okay. Where's Dean?"

"I don't know. He wasn't here when I got here."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I assumed he went for a walk or to run an errand." 

"We have to find him," Sam said, grabbing his coat again.

"He's an adult, Sam. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But he doesn't remember anything."

"He functions like any other adult. You can't keep him on a leash."

"He's my responsibility."

Sam opened the door, revealing Dean on the other side. "What are you, psychic?" Dean asked, hand paused in mid-air.

Sam decided that now was not the best time to tell Dean that yes, he was psychic and often saw glimpses of the future that involved deaths. Instead, Sam went into protective mode. "Where were you?"

"I went for a walk. I needed to get out."

"You should have left a note or something."

"I didn't know how long I'd be gone. I'm not four, Sammy. I can go out by myself. I crossed the streets and everything."

"I was worried."

"I'm fine. See?" Dean said, holding his arms out.

Sam pulled him into the apartment and shut the door. "Just tell me where you're going in the future."

"Yes, Mom," Dean said.

"Supper's ready. Hey, Dean, can you help me set the table, please?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sure," Dean said, moving around a still-steaming Sam. Elizabeth showed Dean where the plates, cups, napkins and silverware were and Dean began setting them out. He stuck all of the silverware on one side of the plate and looked up. "Hey, Sam, did I ever know how to set the table?"

Sam sighed, trying to get rid of his remaining anger at Dean for worrying him so much. "No. We never really set the table."

"Good," Dean said, "then, that's one memory I didn't lose."

Elizabeth smiled. "It doesn't really matter where you put the silverware, Dean. I'm not that into fancy things, either. And I hope you two aren't used to really good food either, because most of my meals come straight out of a can or the microwave."

"It's fine, Elizabeth. We usually just eat fast food. This looks great," Sam said.

"Well, then, Sam, have a seat and we'll eat together."

Sam obeyed and the three of them ate dinner together.

When the three of them finished, they carried their plates to the sink. "Can I do the dishes for you?" Sam offered.

"It's no problem, Sam," Elizabeth said.

"Dean and me, we're staying here for no cost. We have to do something to help out."

"I told you, Sam. I like the company. I hated coming home to an empty apartment after Rett died. He and I used to have so much fun together. We were really close and not having him around…" Elizabeth paused and blinked back tears. "I'm just really glad there's someone to talk to now. Dean, are you okay?" 

Dean looked up, blinking. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've got a headache."

"Bad?" Sam asked, coming over beside him.

Dean squinted. "Yeah."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed," Sam said, wrapping an arm around his brother.

Dean started towards the couch, but Sam pulled him on. "You're taking the bed."

"You're the one who has to work."

"And you're the one who's sick. Besides I won't sleep well if I know you're on the couch." 

Dean sighed. "Okay."

Sam put Dean in bed and turned off the lights in the room. "What can I do to help?" Elizabeth whispered so as not to disturb Dean.

"Do you have any painkillers?"

"Um, some ibuprofen."

"Get them and a wet washcloth."

Elizabeth nodded and hurried away. Sam sat down beside his brother. "It's gonna be okay, Dean. I'm gonna take care of you. I promise."

Elizabeth returned with the requested items and Sam placed the washcloth on Dean's head before handing him the ibuprofen. Dean swallowed them dry in one gulp. Elizabeth pulled a chair up to the bed and sat.

"Liz, you don't have to stay here with us. You have to work early tomorrow, don't you?"

"It's not a problem, Sam. I'm worried about him too."

"Will you two kiss already?" Dean moaned.

Elizabeth laughed. "He's funny, even with a migraine."

"You should have met him before the amnesia," Sam said.

"Well, maybe I'll get the chance to meet him after the amnesia wears off."

"I hope so," Sam said.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's note:** I really didn't plan for Elizabeth to have such a huge role in this fanfic, but once she started talking, I really liked her. Please, review and let me know what you think. Also, a big thank you to for providing medical information to those of us with absolutely no medical knowledge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Still don't own the boys or the other things I used from the show. I really hadn't planned for the story to turn out as long as it is, but I'm having fun playing with this new, "normal" life for the boys. Plus, I think they needed a break. Everyone deserves a vacation now and then. Also, I want to thank everyone for all the comments on the last two chapters. It's been really helpful and encouraging.

Chapter Three

The next morning, Sam woke up lying beside his brother. He glanced over and saw that Dean had finally fallen asleep too. It had been a long night. Dean's headache had caused him to vomit up most of the dinner they had eaten. The painkillers hadn't done much for the headache and Dean lie on the bed in pain for hours.

Sam rolled off the bed, careful not to move the bed and awaken Dean. When he could see that Dean was still out, he went to the bathroom. Elizabeth had left a note saying that she had gone to work and would see him soon. So Sam got dressed for work and fixed food for Dean to eat later. Then, he left his own note for Dean before leaving the apartment.

"How was Dean when you left?" Elizabeth asked.

"Still asleep."

"Good," she said. "He had a rough night."

"Yeah."

Elizabeth touched Sam's hand. "So did you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just worried about Dean."

"I get off here in an hour. I'll call you when I get home and let you know how he's doing," Elizabeth promised.

"Thanks. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Funny," Elizabeth said.

"What is?" 

"I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Before Sam even knew what was happening, they were kissing. He wasn't even certain which of them had started it, but he knew that he was the first to pull back. Elizabeth took a step back. "I'm sorry. I, um, I didn't mean to do that."

"Me either."

"I really didn't invite you to stay with me so we could hook up," Elizabeth said.

"I know. It's okay. Uh, so call me when you check on Dean."

"Sure."

And Elizabeth hurried off to find something to do elsewhere.

Dean found the food Sam had left for him in the refrigerator and forced himself to eat some. He still wasn't that hungry, but he knew that Sam would nag him if he didn't try to eat at least some of it.

He was just sticking it back into the fridge when Elizabeth entered the apartment. "Hey, you're up. How are you feeling?" she asked, coming over to get a closer look at him.

"Better. The headache's mostly gone."

"Good. Do you need anything?"

Dean shook his head and regretted it immediately. Elizabeth pulled a chair out for him and guided him back into it. "Did you see Sam?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth said, going over to the cabinets to retrieve a glass.

Dean frowned. "Did something happen?"

"No. We just talked," Elizabeth said, not turning, despite the fact that she had the glass in hand now.

Dean smiled. "You kissed him, didn't you?" 

"What?" Elizabeth asked, whipping around so fast she nearly dropped her glass. "How did you know?"

Dean shrugged, still grinning. "I guess I'm good at sizing people up. Maybe it's a skill I used to have, you know, before."

"Well, it was a mistake. It won't happen again."

"Sure," Dean said.

"It won't," Elizabeth said with more firmness in her voice. "I don't think Sam will let it."

"Why not?"

"I don't think he likes me."

Dean snorted. "Are you blind? Of course he does. He's just not sure how to show it. It's been hard for him since Jessica died."

"Who's Jessica?"

Dean frowned, shaking his head. "I…I don't know." 

Elizabeth leaned over the counter, closer to Dean. "Well, you said that it had been hard for Sam since she died. Was she a wife? Girlfriend?"

Dean studied the marble counter as though the answer would appear there. "I don't know." Dean rubbed his forehead, squinting. "I can't remember."

Elizabeth came over to him. "Is the headache back?" 

"Yeah." 

"Come on," Elizabeth said, helping him to his feet. She led him back to bed. "When I was little and I used to have a headache, my mom used to rub my head and it would take some of the pain away. Do you want me to try it?"

Dean's eyes were closed tightly. "Okay."

Elizabeth gently massaged his head, working from his forehead all the way down to the base of his neck. Slowly, she felt Dean relaxing against her and his breathing evened out. When she backed away, he was still asleep.

As soon as Elizabeth heard the key in the door she realized that she had forgotten to call Sam. "Is he okay?" were the first words out of Sam's mouth when he stepped into the apartment.

Elizabeth stood. "He's sleeping. I'm sorry I didn't call, Sam. Dean and I were talking and then he got another headache and I was trying to help him feel better and-"

"It's okay," Sam said. "I'm glad you were taking care of him. How bad was the headache?"

"It seemed pretty strong." 

"I'm gonna look in on him," Sam said, already heading toward the bedroom.

When Sam returned, Elizabeth was stirring a pot of soup. "I thought soup might be easier on his stomach," Elizabeth said without looking up.

"That's a good idea. Do you need any help?" 

Elizabeth shook her head, still avoiding Sam's eyes.

"So, I get my first paycheck at the end of the week. It won't be much, but with my tips, Dean and I should have enough to get a motel room."

"You'll barely have any money left for food," Elizabeth said, finally looking up.

"We'll make it work."

"I thought that's what you were doing now."

Sam sighed. "We can't stay here if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable, Sam. I shouldn't have kissed you. I should have realized that you didn't choose to stay here with me because you like me and I was just projecting my own feelings onto you."

"No, you were right. I do like you. It's just… things are complicated right now."

Elizabeth looked back into her pot of soup. "I get it. You don't have to explain."

"Look, Liz, I'm just worried about Dean right now. But I really do like you."

"Can I ask you a question?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sure."

"Who was Jessica?"

Sam drew in a breath. "Where did you hear about her?"

"Dean mentioned her, but he couldn't remember who she was. He said that she was important to you and she died. Was she your wife?"

"No, not yet." 

"Dean said that you had had a hard time since her death." 

Sam nodded. "It really hurt at first." 

"So, her death was a surprise. I mean she died in an accident or something unexpected, right?'

"In a fire," Sam said.

"I'm really sorry, Sam. Look, I promise I won't come anywhere near you if it makes you uncomfortable, but please say you'll stay. It's been really nice having someone here when I got back from work."

This time, it was Sam who initiated the kiss, but neither one pulled back. At least until they both heard, "That's my boy."

"Dean? You're awake?" Sam said, turning toward his brother, who was standing in the hallway.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?" Sam asked, going up to him.

"Probably not as good as you."

"Dean, seriously."

"I'm okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Did you have fun at work?" With the cocky smile lighting up Dean's face, Sam could almost forget that Dean had no memories extending beyond a week and a half in the past.

"It was a blast," Sam said. "Elizabeth made soup for dinner."

"Looks like you've already had dessert, though," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "Just sit down."

When the three of them finished dinner and had carried their dirty dishes to the sink, Elizabeth asked the boys to come and sit on the couch. Once Sam and Dean were seated, Elizabeth stood in front of them. "I have some news."

"What is it?'

"I got a job."

"A new job?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "It's a job writing for an online magazine, so it's something I can do from the apartment. I've always wanted to write and Rett used to listen to my things and comment on them. He used to tell me that I should send them in. So, after he died, I made a promise to him that I would start sending in my stories. And, a week ago, I got an interview with this company. I just got a phone call yesterday asking me to write for them. The pay isn't great, but it's about what I was making at the restaurant, enough to eek by on. And there's always the chance to advance and it's something I really have an interest in."

"That's great, Liz," Sam said, standing.

Elizabeth smiled. "Yeah. It's fun sharing good news with other people."

"What is the magazine?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth looked down. "It's a little embarrassing."

"Come on," Dean said from the couch.

"Okay. Um, it's called Beyond the Veil. It's about supernatural things." 

The surprise on Sam and Dean's faces must have been obvious, because Elizabeth turned away. "See, I knew you'd think it was stupid. But it's kind of always been a hobby of mine and Rett's. We used to make up stories about vampires, werewolves, goblins, ghosts, witches, and so on."

"Liz, we don't think it's stupid," Sam said, touching her shoulder.

Elizabeth turned around. "My parents used to tell us to grow up. You know, that we should be interested in normal things. I guess Rett and I were always weird."

"Actually, Sammy and I have been interested in supernatural things, too," Dean said.

"You're just saying that to make me feel like less of a dork, right?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Dean's right. Actually, supernatural things have kind of been a hobby of ours, too."

"Wow. Do you like stories about those kinds of things?"

"Fictional stories?" Sam asked. Elizabeth nodded. "We haven't read many," Sam said.

"Well, Rett and I used to write them together and on our own too. That's why the magazine wants me actually. For my supernatural stories. But since Rett died, I haven't had anyone to read them to. Are you interested?"

"Sure," Sam said.

"Okay. I'll go and get some, then," Elizabeth said.

As soon as Elizabeth left the room, Dean turned to Sam. "Sammy, that girl is perfect for you."

Sam didn't respond, just sat back down beside his brother.

Over the next two weeks, things continued much as they had before. Elizabeth finished out her two weeks at the restaurant and Sam continued to work there. Dean remained at the apartment.

However, as soon as Sam left for work, Dean would sneak out for some target practice in a remote area he had found. After two weeks of practicing, his aim had improved significantly, but a part of him knew that it still wasn't good enough.

Dean had also taken to studying their father's journal, trying to relearn all of the information about the various monsters they had faced. He quickly found that memorizing information was not a strong skill of his, but resolved to study all the more.

As far as the memories, Dean was still without any of his personal information. His childhood was a blank. He had no memories of Sam that extended beyond his hospital stay. And he found that no matter how hard he concentrated, he could not picture either his father or his mother's faces.

The headaches remained a constant problem, often leaving Dean gasping in pain. When they got that bad, Sam or Elizabeth stayed up with him, attempting to soothe the pain.

When Elizabeth finished her final two weeks at the restaurant, the routine shifted and she was now home. The first day, Dean awoke and ate breakfast like usual. He almost forgot that Elizabeth was even there, until he reached the door and heard her ask, "Where are you going?" 

Dean turned. "Oh, I, uh, just wanted to go for a walk."

"Well, let me get my coat. I'll go with you," Elizabeth offered.

"I kind of want to be alone," Dean said.

"Oh, okay. Well, don't be gone too long. I want company for lunch."

Dean nodded.

As Dean and Elizabeth ate lunch that day, Dean said nothing of where he had gone. She didn't press him on it and as soon as lunch was over, Elizabeth returned to her room to write some more.

The next day, Dean went to his normal spot for target practice. After a few shots, however, the pain in his head that had been a dull throb suddenly doubled. After a few ragged breaths, Dean grabbed his things and started back toward the apartment. He only made it a few steps before collapsing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's note:** I know that this chapter was short, but there's more to come, I promise. I felt like posting this much was better than making you wait another three days for anything. Like always, let me know what you think. I love reading reviews, even ones with suggestions for things to change or do in the future. So, please write and tell me what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** Dean will get the first of his memories back in this chapter. Thanks for being patient with me so far. And again, thanks for all the reviews. There is some more mild profanity in this chapter.

Chapter Four

"Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean recognized Elizabeth's voice, but was hurting too much to turn toward her. Suddenly, he felt her hands on his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. Elizabeth wrapped Dean's arm around her shoulder and put her hands on his waist to steady him.

Then, they began the slow trek back toward her apartment.

"How did you find me?" Dean asked.

"I figured you came to the same place as yesterday. When I saw you leaving with the duffle bag yesterday, I got curious, so I followed you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Dean said.

"When you didn't come home, I got worried. So, I decided to come looking for you."

When they finally reached the apartment, Elizabeth led Dean to his bed and helped him shed his shoes and jacket. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"10," Dean said. After the first few headaches, they had decided on a numerical scale to gauge the severity of each headache. 10 was the highest number on the scale.

Elizabeth knew the drill. She quickly retrieved the pain pills and the washcloth. She also got a movie and put it in the DVD player in the room. Then, she settled back beside Dean on the bed, gently rubbing his head.

"Which movie?" he asked, eyes closed.

"Blade."

Dean smiled. "My favorite."

"I know," Elizabeth said, also smiling. "Rett used to like this movie too. This was his DVD actually. He had a whole collection of horror, sci-fi movies."

"He had good taste," Dean joked, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah. He did. You kind of remind me of him."

"He had no personal memories either?"

"No. He was a smart-ass. But a funny one, like you. Some people used to get upset with him because they didn't understand his brand of humor. He could always make me laugh, though."

"I'm sorry you lost him." 

"Me too. He had a lot to offer. You know that he volunteered at the hospital once a week? He was in college as an engineer. He was brilliant, but he always told me that he wanted to help people."

"He sounds like a great guy."

Elizabeth nodded. "I think you would have liked him."

"Yeah." Then the two fell into silence as the movie started.

After the first few scenes of the movie, Dean relaxed some. By the end of the movie, he was nearly asleep. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Don't mention it," Elizabeth whispered back. "I'm going to let you rest now. I'll check on you in a few hours."

--------

"I got your voicemail," Sam said, tossing down his jacket. "How is he?"

"He's better. I got him to rest and eat something. Sam, I've been doing some reading on headaches."

"Where?"

"Medical websites."

"Oh. Did you find anything?"

"Well, they say that headaches could be a sign of serious damage after head injury."

"The doctors checked him out at the hospital before he left. They said he was fine, physically."

"I still think it couldn't hurt to have him looked at again."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I'm just not sure how we're going to afford that."

"Don't worry about it. I have a cousin who works at the hospital. You won't have to pay anything."

"Dean won't be happy about it."

--------

"I'm okay. I don't need to go to the hospital."

"Dean, these headaches aren't going away. There has to be a cause for them and it could be something serious," Sam said.

"Dean, all we want is to get you examined. We want to make sure you're okay. And the doctors may be able to give you something that could make the headaches more bearable," Elizabeth said. "Please go. Sam and I are both really worried about you."

Dean sighed. "What does this cousin of yours look like?"

Elizabeth smiled. "I don't think he's your type."

--------

The next day, Elizabeth took Dean to Mercy General County Hospital. Her cousin, Mark, met them. "Hey, Liz. How you holdin' up?"

"I'm good. This is my friend, Dean that I was telling you about."

Mark nodded. "Okay. Well based on what you told me, I've scheduled some tests. Don't worry. We'll figure this thing out."

"Thanks, Mark."

"No problem. Dean, are you ready?" 

"Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Mark said. "Follow me."

--------

"How did the appointment go?" Sam asked as soon as he got home that evening.

"Mark said that the tests showed no pressing concerns. There's nothing life-threatening that's causing the headaches." 

"Well, that's good news. So what is causing them?"

"Mark says that headaches are common after head trauma. He said that there were some things we could try and he gave Dean a prescription for a drug that's supposed to ease headaches. Plus, we're supposed to keep a journal about the headaches, with how bad they are, how long they last, things that happened before he got the headache. Stuff like that."

"Where's Dean now?"

"He's asleep in the room. We did a lot of walking today and I could tell he was worn out. Although, he insisted that he was fine."

Sam smiled. "That sounds familiar."

"Well, I finally got him to agree to rest."

"What did you tell him?" 

"That I wanted some time alone with you."

Sam laughed. "I'm sure he had lots to say to that."

"Well, you know Dean. He's never speechless."

"How long's he been asleep?"

"At least an hour. I checked in on him just before you got home."

"I should go and see if he's awake," Sam said. He brushed past Elizabeth and silently slipped into the room.

Sam made no noise, a talent he had acquired from years of hunting and training, but Dean seemed to sense his presence. "Sam?" Dean asked, opening his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Dude, why are you in here when there's a pretty girl out there?"

"Because I wanted to check on my brother."

"If you and Elizabeth need some more private time, I can always go back to sleep."

Sam shook his head, sitting down beside Dean on the bed. "Liz said the doctor gave you some medicine for your headaches."

"Yeah. I'm 'sposed to take it five times a day for the next two weeks and see if it helps any."

"Did you take it today?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Good. How's your head now?"

"I'm okay."

--------

"Going out for target practice again?" Elizabeth asked when Dean got to the door.

"Yeah," Dean said, turning back toward her. 

"Did you and Sam hunt a lot?"

"Apparently."

"So that's why it's so important to you. That you relearn how to shoot."

"I just wish I could be myself again. Whoever that is." 

"Sam says that you sound like yourself already."

Dean nodded. "I guess my personality is still there. But my memories are still a blank. I just wish I could remember anything about my life. A birthday party, my dad's face, even an argument Sam and I had. Just something."

"I can't even imagine how frustrating it must be for you. But Mark told me that it's not uncommon for patients to start recalling their memories weeks, even months after the accident. Don't give up hope yet, Dean. Your memories may still be in there somewhere, waiting for the right trigger."

Dean nodded. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Okay. Do you have your cell phone?"

Dean felt his pocket and nodded.

"Did you take your pills?"

"Yeah."

"And your head feels okay right now?" 

"Yes," Dean said.

"Okay. Call me if you start to get a headache."

Dean nodded and left.

--------

"Do I really have to wear this?" Dean asked, staring again at the suit Sam had laid out for him on the bed.

"Yes. We're going to a nice restaurant. You can't wear jeans and a t-shirt."

Dean frowned. "Did I used to enjoy dressing up?"

"Yeah, about as much as you enjoy a root canal."

"Well, for the record, I still don't like it," Dean said, grabbing the suit.

"That's fine, but this is for Elizabeth. She's been really great to us this past month and it's her birthday. I think we should let her know how much we appreciate her."

"And we can't do that in jeans?"

"Just put on the suit," Sam ordered, straightening his own tie.

When Dean had finally complied with the order, the boys exited the room to find Elizabeth waiting for them on the couch. She stood as they approached, and both boys stared at the low cut, red dress.

Sam caught himself and made a point of looking up at her face. Dean, however, continued to stare until Sam smacked him on the arm. "Um, you look great," Sam said.

Elizabeth smiled. "Thanks. You two look pretty good yourselves. So, are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"Not yet," Sam said. "Are you ready?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Dean, do you have your pills?"

Dean held up his container with the pills sorted out by the times they were to be taken.

"Good. Okay, I'm ready," Elizabeth said.

Sam led them all out and down to the Impala. Then, they drove deeper into town and stopped at a fancy restaurant. "Here?" Elizabeth asked.

Sam smiled. "Here." He opened the door for Elizabeth and helped her out.

"This place is so expensive, Sam," Elizabeth said, frowning. "I don't want you wasting your money like this."

"Consider it a replacement for the rent money we should be paying you."

"I told you, Sam. My father got me that apartment. It's not like I'm really paying rent either."

"Don't worry about it. You deserve this, Liz. Now, come on. We've got a reservation."

The three of them walked into the restaurant and were seated in a corner booth. After placing an order, Sam handed Elizabeth a present. "Happy birthday," he said.

"Sam, you didn't have to get me anything." 

"I wanted to."

Elizabeth stared at Sam while she tore the paper off her present, revealing a silver locket. "This is beautiful, Sam."

"Open it," he said.

Elizabeth obeyed and gasped. "It's Rett."

"I thought that this way you could always have him close to you."

"Thank you, Sam. I love it," Elizabeth said, slipping the necklace on.

"This is from me," Dean said, handing Elizabeth a present which looked as though a four year old had wrapped it.

Elizabeth laughed at the wrapping. "Did you wrap it yourself?"

"Yeah. I guess that's another skill I haven't gotten back yet."

"No, that's another skill you never had," Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just open it."

Elizabeth pulled the wrapping paper off the box and opened it. "Oh, Dean."

She pulled out a plaque with the words "In Loving Memory of Everett Justin Bryant. Compassionate humanitarian."

"What is this?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, when I was at the hospital, I found some of the people who knew your brother. I told them what you had said about him and I said they should have a plaque about him in the hallway."

"I tried to get the hospital to put something up for Everett. Mark tried too, right after the funeral. But you have to get permission from the hospital administrator."

"She's not really that unreasonable. I pointed out some of the publicity benefits. Most people don't like hospitals, but having a plaque like that in the hallway makes the hospital seem more caring, friendlier. She agreed to let you put it up."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "Dean, that was so sweet. I don't know what to say."

"Happy birthday," Dean said.

"Thank you both so much. I was really dreading this birthday. It's the first one I've had to celebrate solo."

Sam took Elizabeth's hand. "It's okay."

"Fire," Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked, tracing his brother's line of sight. Across the restaurant, a waiter was carrying a flaming dessert. He extinguished it in front of the delighted patrons. "Dean, it's just a dessert. It's okay."

But Dean wasn't listening. The restaurant had been replaced by images of a familiar house. He was young, only four years old. In his arms was a baby, wrapped in a blue blanket. "It's okay, Sammy," young Dean whispered to the baby in his arms, as he stared up at the house.

Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind by strong arms and a voice said, "I gotcha." The arms pulled Dean and baby Sam away from the house just before the window exploded. The blast was so strong that Dean could feel the heat on his face. And he knew that his mom was still in there.

"Momma?" Dean cried, his breath coming in short gasps. "The fire. She's still in there. Why didn't she come out?"

"Dean! Dean, look at me!" Sam ordered, kneeling in front of his brother.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down. You're disturbing our other guests," a waiter said.

"Daddy, where are you? Where did you go? Do you have Sammy?" 

"Sir, if you don't keep your voice down, I'll have to ask you to leave." 

But Dean was hysterical and didn't seem to hear anything the waiter said to him. He stared around wildly, apparently seeing nothing in front of him but a burning house.

"Sam, let's just go," Elizabeth said.

Sam nodded and grabbed Dean, pulling him to his feet. Together the three of them left the restaurant. Once outside, Sam shook his brother gently, trying to get him to focus. "Dean, Dean, just look at me. It's Sam. I'm right here. Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean blinked. "Of course I can hear you. I lost my memories, not my hearing."

Sam and Elizabeth both breathed out in relief. "He's okay," Sam said.

Dean looked around. "Is dinner over already?"

"No. We're gonna go somewhere else to eat," Sam said.

"Did I get us kicked out?" Dean asked.

"Thankfully, yes. I don't know about you two, but I felt so uncomfortable in there," Elizabeth said. 

"Dean, did you remember something?" Sam asked.

Dean squinted. "There was a fire, when you were a baby. I carried you out. Mom died."

Sam nodded. "That's right, Dean. That's what happened." 

"Dean, how's your head?" Elizabeth asked.

"It hurts." 

"What do you say we just go home?"

Sam nodded and helped Dean into the car. As they drove back, Dean spoke. "I'm sorry I ruined the evening." 

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said, searching for words to make his brother feel better. "It's not your fault."

"This evening isn't ruined. How about we go home, change into more comfortable clothes and watch a movie together?"

"You and Sam should go out together. I'll be fine," Dean said.

"What kind of birthday celebration would it be without you, Dean?" Elizabeth asked.

"Dull," Dean said, smiling.

Elizabeth laughed. "Very true. Besides, watching Rett's old movies reminds me of him and this is his birthday too."

So, that's what they did. Elizabeth retrieved a movie and put it on for them all while Sam made sure Dean was comfortable on the couch. After a few minutes of watching the movie, Sam looked over at his brother, who was actually smiling. In the chair beside Sam, Elizabeth was smiling, too.

As the movie played, Sam leaned over to Elizabeth. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For making Dean feel better. You made him feel like it wasn't his fault, what happened tonight."

"It wasn't his fault. He couldn't control the memory that came back to him."

"I know. But Dean feels like a lot of things are his fault, things he couldn't possibly control. At least, he used to, when he remembered."

"What about you, Sam? Do you take the blame for things you can't control?"

"I guess it's a family trait," Sam said, smiling.

"Then maybe this is the break you both needed. I'm not naïve, Sam. I know that you can't stay here forever. When Dean gets his memories back, you two will take off again. I wish it wasn't the case, but I know. I can see it when I look at you."

"We have…complicated lives." 

Elizabeth nodded. "I can see that. Look, I don't want to dwell on what's going to happen. Right now, I'm just enjoying the present. Maybe you should do the same."

"Are you going somewhere?" Dean asked, looking up from his father's journal.

"Yeah, I have a few errands to run. I have to go the grocery store and get some more food and I need to go to the bookstore. They just got a new book in that I'd ordered. What about you, Dean? Are you going out for your target practice?"

Dean shook his head. "I went this morning."

"Well, would you like to come with me?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure."

The two went down to the car together and drove first to the bookstore. After Elizabeth retrieved her new book, they went on to the grocery store. Since it was the middle of the day, it was packed with people, mostly moms with their children.

As soon as the two walked inside, Dean stared around, a confused look on his face. "Dean, are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, still looking around.

"Okay. Well, come on. Let's get the stuff on the list and get out."

Dean followed Elizabeth around the store, trying to ignore the dozens of conversations going on all around him. As Elizabeth put the fifth item into the cart, Dean suddenly felt that he had to get out of the store.

"I need some air," Dean said, hurrying away before Elizabeth even had time to react.

Elizabeth steered her cart over to the side of an aisle and hurried out after Dean. She found him just outside the store, leaning against the side of the building. "Dean, what's wrong? Is it a headache?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "I don't know what it is. I just couldn't stay in there anymore. I think I'm going crazy."

"Maybe it was too noisy for you."

"No. I mean that's part of it, but there was something else too. I don't know."

Elizabeth handed him the keys to the car. "Here. Why don't you go wait in the car. You can relax there for a few minutes. It won't take me long to get the rest of the things on the list. Okay?"

Dean nodded, taking the keys and heading into the parking lot. Elizabeth watched him find the car and sink down into it, before she turned and went back into the store.

--------

"You got overloaded," Elizabeth said, walking into the room where Dean was reading. He quickly closed the book and looked up.

Elizabeth came over to the bed and sat. "I found a medical website that talks about head trauma and common side effects after it. It says that patients with a head injury can easily get overloaded in busy atmospheres. I think that's what happened to you at the grocery store today."

"Oh," Dean said. "So, what, I just have to avoid any place with people for the rest of my life? That ought to be simple."

"The website said that it gets better over time. You'll learn to handle it better. But for now, I think maybe you'd better avoid any more trips to the store."

Dean sighed. "Okay."

"So what are you reading?" Elizabeth asked, flipping open the journal.

Dean grabbed it away from her. "It's, uh, it's my father's journal."

"Oh."

"I was trying to remember him." 

"Well, you remembered the fire from when you were little. I'm sure your other memories are in there too."

"I heard his voice," Dean said, looking down. "In the memory, I mean. I felt him pick me up. But I still couldn't see his face."

"I'm sure that Sam has a picture of your father that you could look at."

"It's not the same. I want to remember him. It's not fair."

"Life rarely is. Listen, maybe you should do something to get your mind off this."

"Like what?"

"Well, you could help me do some research. I have lots of books on supernatural creatures, but not many of them deal with a Wendigo, which is what the next magazine issue is focusing on. I'm supposed to write a story about a Wendigo and I found a few websites that deal with them, but I feel kind of lost, because I just don't know the lore as well. Dean?" 

Dean was suddenly very far away, in a motel room in Minnesota. "These are Anasazi symbols. They provide protection against a Wendigo," John told Dean. "Have you been practicing writing them?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean said.

"Good. You never know when you'll need to know these things. How do you kill them?" 

"You burn them," Dean recited dutifully.

"Good. What makes them difficult enemies?"

"They're faster than us, stronger than us and they can still reason through problems."

"And?" John prompted.

Dean frowned, thinking about all his father had told him. "And, they're, uh, they can sound like humans."

"Dean, you forgot about their claws."

Dean looked down, knowing he had messed up.

"Dean, you have to remember these things, because someone has to protect Sammy and I may not always be here."

"Dean, are you okay? Please, say something."

Dean shook his head. "Something."

Elizabeth smiled. "You scared me. Did you just remember something else?"

Dean nodded. "I saw my dad."

"That's great! See, I told you those memories were in there." But before Elizabeth had even finished her sentence, Dean was falling forward. She caught him and laid him back on the bed, feeling his forehead for a temperature. There was none, but that didn't make the fainting any less scary.

When Dean woke up a few minutes later, Elizabeth was hovering over him still. "Oh, I was so scared. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay. Well, I'll let you rest. I'll just be across the hall. Yell if you need anything."

--------

"Liz said you saw Dad."

Dean nodded. "We were in a motel room, I think. He had his journal in front of him and he was teaching me or quizzing me."

"About what?" 

"Wendigos." 

Sam nodded. "Dad used to quiz us to make sure we knew how to protect ourselves."

"I disappointed him."

Sam nearly swore aloud. He had been praying that Dean would remember the better times first, even though those were few and far between. Dean didn't need to feel that he had disappointed their father, not now.

"I'm sure he was just worried that you wouldn't be able to protect yourself. He was proud of you, Dean." 

"You're lying again, aren't you, Sam?" Dean said, studying his brother's face.

"I'm not lying."

"Then why do I have this strong feeling that you are? That you're keeping things back to protect me?" 

"Dean, I want you to remember things on your own. That's all I'm keeping from you. But I am not lying when I say that Dad was always very proud of you."

"Okay," Dean said, looking down.

Sam came closer and sat down beside Dean on the bed. "Elizabeth also told me about what happened at the store."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Okay, but I think you should stay in the apartment from now on, at least until you're feeling better."

"You want to lock me up?" 

"No, I just don't think that pushing yourself is a good way to facilitate your healing." 

"Facilitate my healing? Where are you gettin' this crap from?"

"I've been reading about head traumas."

"Sam, I'm fine," Dean said, turning away.

"No, Dean, you're obviously not. You got hurt and you're still suffering the aftereffects of the fall and that's okay. You need time to heal."

"You can't keep me here like a prisoner."

"Dean, it's for your own good." 

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asked, standing. "This will drive me crazy. You know how I get being cooped up. By the end of the second day, I'll be crawling the walls, Dude."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again." 

"You can't protect me by keeping me locked away."

"I'm still gonna try." 

"Dammit, Sam. I'm not a little kid. You can't tell me what to do."

"I'm the one in charge right now. Do I need to handcuff you to the bed?" 

Dean stared at Sam a minute before leaving the room. He slammed the bedroom door and the bathroom door and would have slammed more doors had there been any others in his path.

"I'm guessing that didn't go well," Elizabeth said, when Sam came out into the hall.

"Not exactly as I'd hoped, no."

"Well, you are confining him to a small space. Most people wouldn't be too pleased with that." 

"You think I'm wrong?"

"I didn't say that. I just understand why he's upset. Although I'm not sure that locking him in the apartment forever is the best treatment either."

"What do you want me to do? Treat him like he's normal? Because he's not normal right now."

"I know that, Sam, but what's the harm in letting him out with us around? We would be there to make sure he was okay. We could watch him for signs of headache or overload. At the first sign of trouble, we could make sure he got back to the apartment okay."

Sam sighed. "I guess that's reasonable. I'm just worried about him. I'm so scared that something bad is gonna happen to him."

"I understand, but Dean is an adult. You can't treat him like a child. Memories or no memories, he's still capable of taking care of himself. And if you try to protect him like this, you're just gonna end up pushing him away."

Finally, Sam nodded. "You're right. It's just… Liz, he's all I've got left."

Elizabeth took Sam's hands. "I know what's it's like to lose a brother, Sam. And it would hurt me to lose Dean too, but we have to trust him. That's part of being a family."

"Okay." Sam walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Dean, can you please come out? I need to talk to you."

There was no response.

Sam knocked again. "Dean, I know you're in there. Just open the door."

When there was still no response, Sam started to get worried. The door was locked. "Liz, do you have a key to this door?" 

"No."

"Get me a paper clip."

Minutes later, Sam heard the lock pop and he shoved open the door. The bathroom was empty. The window had been slid open and the curtain was blowing in the wind.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's note:** The overloaded thing that happened to Dean in the grocery store is actually a real symptom of people with a head injury. Okay, so Dean is obviously starting to get his memories back. There are way more to come. It's also common for people with amnesia to get older memories back before more recent memories. Still want to know what you think. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** Thanks for all the great reviews. I apologize for the confusing section breaks I've had, but I think I've found a way to remedy the problem; so hopefully, this chapter will be less confusing. I'm also sorry about the wait. School has started again for me and my course load this time is heavy, so I don't know how often I'll be able to post now. I will do my best to keep posting often, though.

There's more hurt!Dean in this chapter and a little bit more of Elizabeth's back-story, which I didn't plan on writing, but when I gave my characters free reign, this is what happened. I really liked it, but the reader's opinion is the one that matters. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this.

Chapter Five

Sam stood staring at the empty bathroom a moment before taking any action. He knew that he had to find his brother, but the thought of him out there as he was, vulnerable, nearly paralyzed Sam. It was actually Elizabeth who took action first. She grabbed her keys and jacket.

"Come on, Sam. We can cover more ground if we split up. He can't get far on foot. You take the Impala and go downtown. I'll drive these streets on this side of town."

Sam nodded, still numb. In the past, it had been Dean who gave directions, told Sam what to do. Sam was beginning to miss the old, bossy Dean.

At least, Elizabeth seemed to have a plan. Sam climbed into the Impala and immediately tried calling Dean's cell phone, but it just rang and rang with no answer. He sped downtown, cruising every street slowly, staring at each male he passed. So many times he thought he saw Dean. That man had his swagger and a jacket that looked just like Dean's but his hair was much too long. Then there was the guy with the right jeans and the right hair, but the face was wrong. And each time Sam saw that it wasn't his brother, his stomach dropped a little more.

--------

Elizabeth drove slowly along the road out of town. When she reached the edge of town, she parked the car off the road and walked out into the fields. It came as no surprise to her when she saw Dean sitting on the grass.

Dean saw her coming and started to get up. "Relax, Dean. I'm not going to drag you back. I couldn't if I wanted to."

Dean sat back down and watched Elizabeth approach and sit down across from him.

"Sam know you're here?"

"No. He's looking for you downtown."

"Why?"

"Because I told him to. I had a feeling you would come out to your target practice spot."

"You didn't tell Sam that I've been coming out here," Dean said, reading Elizabeth's expression.

"No. I thought that if you wanted him to know, you would tell him yourself. Sam isn't going to come here looking for you, at least not right away."

"He acts like I'm helpless, broken."

"He's worried about you."

"He doesn't need to be. I can take care of myself."

"He's your brother. He's always gonna worry about you, just like you're always gonna worry about him."

"I'm sick of being treated like a helpless child."

"Then don't act like one."

"What?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Dean, children are the ones who run away when things don't go their way. Adults talk, reach a compromise. If you want to be treated like an adult, then come back to the apartment and talk to Sam."

"He won't listen to me."

"Yes, he will. I promise he will. He was ready to compromise until he learned that you had crawled out the window."

Dean shook his head. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"Keep pretending that everything's okay. Sam wants me to be who I used to be, but I don't remember that person and I'm not even sure I want to be that person. I mean, what if I wasn't a good person?"

"Why would you think that?" Elizabeth asked, leaning closer.

"I know I disappointed my dad. I saw it in the last memory and I got the feeling that it wasn't the first time I had let him down. And Sammy," Dean paused, shaking his head, "he's hiding something from me. What if I did something terrible?"

"I don't believe that."

Dean frowned. "I think I'm capable of really bad things. There's this…anger, down inside me. Ready to explode and I think it's been there a while."

"Dean, everyone gets angry."

"This is worse. I can feel it."

Elizabeth put her hand on Dean's shoulder, scooting closer to him. "Dean, I've been around you for over a month and I haven't seen any indication that you're a bad person."

"But what if I was?" Dean asked, looking at her.

"I don't care what you've done in the past and you can choose your actions in the future. Your brother loves you. Unconditionally. Do you really think a bad person would have earned his loyalty?"

Dean nodded. "Okay. I'll come back to the apartment."

--------

Sam tried to calm himself down before entering the apartment. He didn't want to run Dean off again, but part of him was furious with Dean for scaring him like that. Of course the other part just wanted to run in and hug his brother.

When Sam saw his brother standing in the kitchen of the apartment, the latter part won. He grabbed Dean for an embrace, something he knew the old Dean would never have allowed, short of one of them dying.

Dean didn't hug Sam back, but he didn't push him away, either, which Sam considered as good as a hug. When Sam pulled back, he saw that Dean was just staring at him. "Dean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I was afraid you'd gotten hurt."

Dean backed away a step. "You know, I'm not as helpless as you think I am."

"Dean, I don't think you're helpless. I just know that you're not yourself. Bad things could happen to you out there."

"Bad things are out there, Dean."

"Huh?" Dean asked, staring at Sam.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked, watching his brother blink.

"Bad thing are out there, Dean, and you have to protect Sammy. No matter what happens to me, I need to know that you're going to take care of Sammy. Do you understand me?" John asked.

Dean nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

"The three of us are all we have now."

"What about Mommy?" Dean asked.

"Your mother is dead, Dean, and she isn't coming back." John's tone was harsh and unforgiving and made Dean shrink back against the wooden chair.

"Why did she go away?"

"She was killed. Something bad took her away from us and we're not going to stop until we find it."

Dean's eyes widened. "Is it gonna get us, too, Daddy?"

John shook his head, pulling Dean onto his lap. "I'm never gonna let that happen. As long as we're together, we'll be okay."

"Dean! Dean!" Sam was saying. Dean stared up at his brother, feeling the floor under his back.

"Why am I on the floor?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "You fell. Are you okay?"

Dean nodded, trying to sit up, but when he sat, he found that the room was spinning. He closed his eyes, but that only made the spinning worse. He tried to pull the room back into focus, but everything seemed to be moving.

Sam seemed to sense the problem and moved behind Dean, pulling Dean back against his chest. The feeling of Sam behind him gave Dean a sense of stability amidst the dizziness. He focused his breathing, timing it to the rising and falling of Sam's chest and slowly, the dizziness began to fade.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked from her crouched position in front of the brothers.

"Yeah, better."

"What did you see?" Sam asked.

"Dad. I think it was right after Mom died. He told us that we were all we had and that as long as we were together, we would be okay. He held me on his lap. And I felt safe."

Sam frowned, remembering a man who seemed to have shed all sentimentality. By the time Sam could remember him, John had developed a calloused exterior, a barrier between himself and the outside world. While the barrier was effective in shielding John from the supernatural beings they hunted, it also kept his sons just as far away.

Suddenly, Sam wished for a memory like the one Dean had described. By the time Sam was four, his father was rarely home. When John was home, he was either recovering from a hunt or preparing for the next one. There was no time for hugs or reassurances. That was left to Dean, which was why when Sam started having nightmares, it wasn't his father's bed he ran to, but his brother's.

"Sam?" Dean said.

Sam shook himself, seeing that his brother had twisted around to face him. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

Sam smiled. "I'm fine. You should get some rest."

"I'm not tired," Dean said.

"It's late and you've had a rough night. You should at least try to sleep."

Dean allowed Sam to help him stand and then Dean moved toward the couch. "You should take the bed," Sam argued.

"I'll be fine on the couch, Sam."

Elizabeth shook her head. "We're going to have to do something about this bed situation."

--------

"Ta da," Elizabeth said, pushing open the door to the boys' bedroom. Another twin bed had been added to the room.

"Where did you get this?" Sam asked, stepping inside the room.

"My parents bought it."

"They just bought you a bed?" Sam asked.

"Well, I explained to them that I had two new roommates and that these brothers didn't want to share a bed, so I was thinking that I would just have to let the cute, young one share my bed. That was when they offered to get me a new bed."

Dean laughed. "Nice."

"You never talk about them," Sam said.

"They weren't really around much when I was growing up. My dad owned his own real estate company and my mom liked to travel. They started leaving Rett and me with sitters when we were just a year old. By the time we were eight, they were leaving us alone. That's how I grew up," Elizabeth said.

"So you're not close to them at all?" Sam pressed.

"They didn't want anything to do with me when I was growing up," Elizabeth said, shrugging. "I don't really want anything to do with them now. They provide for me, just like always. I've never needed or wanted anything, except them."

"But your parents won't be around forever. If they want to get close to you now, why don't you try?"

"Because it's too little, too late. I don't need them."

The words stung Sam, reminding him of how he had felt right after his father's death. He had never worried about getting close to his father, feeling that John had pushed him away. And then, suddenly, his dad was dead and no matter how much Sam wanted to make it right, he couldn't.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked, watching his brother.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look upset."

"It's nothing," Sam insisted.

"This was a lot easier when you were two. You used to always tell me what was wrong then," Dean mused.

"What?" Sam asked. "You remember when I was two?"

Dean looked up. "Bits and pieces. You used to fall down a lot. You were a clumsy kid."

"What else do you remember?" Sam asked, nearly pleading for more.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing. Just a lot of empty space."

"You're getting there, Dean," Elizabeth said. "Don't give up."

--------

"What are you doing in here?"

The voice startled Sam and he turned, glad that it was just Dean and not Elizabeth. "I'm just looking for something."

"In Elizabeth's room? What are you looking for, her panties?"

"No, Dean, that's what you would be looking for. I'm just trying to find her address book."

"So you can call her parents?"

"She needs to talk to them," Sam said, shutting another drawer.

"Don't you think that's her call?"

"I just don't want her to have any regrets."

"Like you do?" Dean asked.

Sam whirled around to face his brother. "I thought you didn't remember anything recent."

"I don't, but I've seen the way you tense up any time I mention Dad. And yesterday, when Elizabeth was talking about her parents, you got this really weird look on your face."

"I just want to help her. Now are you going to help me?"

"For the record, I think this is a bad idea," Dean said, coming farther into the room. "Did you check her desk?"

"That was the first place I looked. It wasn't there."

Dean frowned, staring at the layout of the room. "Her computer," Dean said aloud. "She keeps everything there."

Sam nodded, sliding into Elizabeth's desk chair. After a few minutes of typing, Sam managed to bring up Elizabeth's electronic date book, complete with a list of contacts. "There they are, Lynn and Eric Bryant."

"What are you gonna do now?" Dean asked.

"Arrange a meeting."

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, that'll go over well."

--------

"Sam, you're home early," Elizabeth said when Sam got home from work the next day.

"Um, yeah, listen, I hope it's okay, but I invited some people over for dinner."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Um, yeah, it's fine. Who is it? Is it someone I know?"

The knock on the door allowed Sam to avoid answering the question. Dean appeared in the hallway. "You could say that."

When the door opened, revealing Elizabeth's parents, she stared from Dean to Sam like a trapped animal. "You invited my parents?" she hissed at Dean.

"Wasn't my idea," Dean said, holding up his hands.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bryant, please come in."

"You must be one of the boys Elizabeth told us about," Mrs. Bryant said, looking Sam over.

"I'm Sam," Sam said, holding out his hand to them. "I'm the one who talked to you on the phone."

Mr. Bryant shook Sam's hand. "Right." He turned toward Elizabeth. "Hello, Elizabeth. You look well."

"I'm fine, Dad. Sam didn't tell me you were coming," she said, sending a not so pleasant expression Sam's way.

"Really?" Mr. Bryant said. "He told us this was your idea."

"If it was my idea, I would have called you myself."

"Well, Elizabeth, if you don't want us here, we'll just leave," Mrs. Bryant said.

"Well, that is what you're good at."

"Excuse me, young lady?" Mrs. Bryant asked, turning toward her daughter. "What did you just say?"

"You've never been interested in me or Rett. Why do you think we both moved out right after high school? Whether we were in your house or this apartment, we never saw you. You cared more about your stupid trips and your fancy lifestyle than your children."

"We don't have to listen to this, certainly not from our own daughter. Lynn, let's go," Mr. Bryant said, heading back toward the door.

"Wait," Sam said. "Don't you want to talk? You don't want to leave things like this between you."

"This is how things have always been," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, our children have always been selfish and ungrateful," Mrs. Bryant said.

"Well, it must run in the family," Elizabeth shot back.

Mr. and Mrs. Bryant were already out in the hallway and heading toward the elevators. Elizabeth slammed the door behind them and whirled around to face Sam. "How could you ambush me like that?"

"Why do you treat your parents like that? You didn't even give them a chance to talk, just insulted them."

"You haven't had to live with them. They were never there when I needed them, Sam. Rett was the only family I had and now he's gone. How would you feel if you lost all your family?"

"My parents are both dead."

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't give you the right to pry into my family history. How did you even find their number?"

Sam looked away.

"You were on my computer, weren't you?" Elizabeth guessed. "What gives you the right to look through my things like that?"

"I was just trying to help," Sam said.

"Help who? Did you think that if you got me the relationship you never had with your parents it would make you feel better?"

"I was worried about you! I know how much it can hurt to have regrets."

"Well, do me a favor, Sam, and stay out of my personal life!"

Elizabeth ran into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Dean stared from Elizabeth's door back to Sam. "Yeah, that went well."

--------

The next day, Elizabeth refused to even come out of her room until after Sam left for work. When the door to the apartment shut, Elizabeth stuck her head out. "Is he gone?" she asked.

"Yes," Dean said, from his place on the couch.

Elizabeth came out and began to pace in front of Dean. "I can't believe he called my parents without even telling me and without talking to me first. I mean didn't he think I had a good reason for not talking to them?"

Dean stared up at her. "Are you expecting me to answer or are you just venting?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I just can't believe he did that. I trusted him."

"Sam thought he was helping you. He doesn't want you to have any regrets."

Elizabeth sat down on the couch beside Dean. "I know he meant well, but this has to be my decision."

Dean nodded. "I get it."

Elizabeth sighed. "I need to take a walk. You want to come with me?"

"Sure."

--------

"Rett and I used to take walks around town and just talk. Somehow walking made it easier to talk about our problems."

Dean said nothing, just walked beside Elizabeth and allowed her to talk.

"You know that my parents were gone when it happened? They were traveling." Elizabeth scoffed. "They didn't even come home for the funeral, just sent the money to pay for it. That was how they handled everything. Money will solve the problem. Did they miss our birthday? No problem. Just buy us a big screen TV. Weren't there for graduation? No problem. Just send a check and maybe a card saying, 'Congratulations'. Rett break his arm? No big deal. Just send money to pay for the hospital visit."

"At least they paid for things," Dean said.

"It was guilt money. I don't even know why they had kids. It wasn't like they wanted us."

"Our dad was gone a lot, too," Dean said.

Elizabeth looked over. "When did you remember that?"

Dean shook his head. "It's not really one memory. I just have all these pictures in my head of Dad walking out the door, leaving me and Sammy alone."

"That explains why you two are so close. I think being alone forces you to depend on one another."

Dean stumbled suddenly, falling back against a building.

"Dean, are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." He tried to push himself away, but his knees buckled and Elizabeth barely caught him.

"Maybe a walk wasn't such a good idea," she said, easing him down to sit on the concrete sidewalk. "I should have remembered that you still get tired easily after activity."

Dean shook his head, staring up at the sky. "Man, this sucks out loud."

Elizabeth smiled. "It's no big deal, Dean. We'll just sit for a few minutes." She settled in beside Dean, leaning her head back against the building behind them. "You want to play a game while we wait?"

"Like what?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Okay, Rett and I used to watch people and try to guess what breed of dog they would be if they were a dog."

"Why?" Dean asked.

Elizabeth laughed. "I don't know. It's just something stupid we used to do. We made up lots of goofy games to pass the time. Why don't I start?" Elizabeth stared around at the people walking on the sidewalk across the street.

She pointed to a short woman walking past. "She'd be a Yorkie. See the fast way she walks and look at how small she is. And see him?" Elizabeth asked, pointing at a man dressed in a crisp suit with stiff hair. "He'd be a poodle. Look at how carefully groomed he is."

When a man wearing a black biker jacket and a nose ring walked by, Elizabeth and Dean both said, "Pitt bull." Then they laughed.

"See? It's kind of fun," Elizabeth said. "And it's nice to hear you laugh. You make a lot of jokes, but I haven't heard you laugh much."

Dean looked away and pushed himself up. "We can go now."

Elizabeth stood. "Okay."

The two returned to the apartment and Dean headed for his room to rest. He paused in the hallway. "Hey, Liz?"

"Yeah?" she asked, turning toward him.

"Thanks. You know for not making a big deal out of things."

Elizabeth smiled. "It's no problem, Dean. Get some rest."

Dean nodded and disappeared down the hall.

--------

Sam wasn't sure what would await him when he got home that night. Given how angry Elizabeth had been earlier, he fully expected an icy reception. Instead, Elizabeth and Dean were sitting at the table together, laughing. It wasn't the first time Sam had seen Dean laughing with a girl, but usually it was a girl he was hitting on. And the look on Dean's face was something new. He seemed genuinely happy, like for once he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, noticing his brother in the doorway.

Elizabeth turned in her seat. "Come on in, Sam. Dean and I made dinner."

"You're speaking to me again?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I've had all day to cool down and I realized that you were just trying to help. You were wrong to do what you did and I want your word that you won't ever go through my things again, but I'm not mad at you anymore."

Sam sat. "You're right. I should have gone about that a different way and I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I promise I will never do it again."

Elizabeth smiled. "You're forgiven. Now, how about some casserole?"

"Sounds good to me," Sam said.

"Dean helped me make it. You know I think he has a knack for cooking."

"All I did was dump stuff in," Dean said, taking a bite.

"You figured out that it needed more salt."

Dean shrugged and continued eating.

"Sounds like you had a good day. Did you do anything else?"

"We went for a walk and I got my next article done," Elizabeth said.

"That's great," Sam said.

"How was work?" Elizabeth asked.

"Great. We had three birthday parties."

"Oh fun," Elizabeth said. "I remember those days. Did you get to dance with Mortimer Mouse?"

"Yeah. What about you, Dean? Were you okay today?"

"Fine," Dean said.

Sam cast a glance over at Elizabeth, who nodded. "He's been fine. No headaches."

"Good," Sam said. "Maybe the medicine is working."

--------

That night, Sam was awakened. He lay still for a minute, listening for noises that might have woken him. He didn't have to listen long. From the bed next to him, he could hear Dean tossing and turning in bed. Dean was also mumbling things, arms flailing out in front of him.

Sam went over to Dean, trying to calm him. "Dean, Dean, wake up. It's just a nightmare."

But Dean didn't hear him. "No, no. Gotta catch it. Here somewhere. Look out, Sammy!"

Sam shook Dean gently. "Dean, it's just a dream. Wake up."

Suddenly, Dean's whole body shook and he let out a painful moan. Sam shook him harder and this time, Dean opened his eyes. "Sammy? Did we get it? Is it dead?"

"Dean, you were dreaming."

"Wasn't just a dream," Dean mumbled.

"Was it a memory? What were we hunting?"

Dean frowned. "It was something strong, something in the woods. An ogre," Dean realized.

"When was it?"

"You were a kid, Sammy. Maybe nine."

Sam frowned, thinking back to the hunts of that time. Between the poltergeist in Des Moines, Iowa and the demon exorcism in Newark, New Jersey, Sam remembered an ogre. It had been Sam's first ogre hunt and Dean had been so concerned about keeping Sam safe, he slipped. He let the ogre get too close and the thing had smacked him so hard he went flying into a tree several yards away.

The beating was severe enough to keep Dean from hunting for the next three weeks. His ribs and hips were bruised and even getting out of bed to use the bathroom had been painful for Dean. Sam remembered watching Dean limp around and knowing that it had been his fault his big brother was hurt. But Dean never once said that. And his actions didn't imply it either.

In fact, two days later, when John left on his next hunt, Dean hobbled around the kitchen making a meal for Sam. When Sam urged him back to bed, Dean said that he had to make sure Sammy was taken care of. Dean's expression and tone all let Sam know that Dean didn't blame him.

"Do you remember that hunt?" Dean was asking.

"Yeah. It was my fault you got hurt."

"It was my job to protect you."

"You've always protected me, Dean," Sam said.

Dean tried to roll over and groaned.

"Dean, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It hurts."

"Where?"

"My ribs and hips."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's notes:** What do you think? Your reviews are what keep me writing, so please drop me a line and let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I hope you found Elizabeth's story interesting. I do have plans for Dean and I know how the story will end, but please indulge me in adding in some extra details along the way. I'm a sucker for Dean angst.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **There are more memories to come in this chapter. Of course, there is more Dean angst and even some Sam angst. Those boys just look so good when they're upset. Anyway, hope you like it and here it is.

Chapter Six

Sam was frozen for a moment, trying to think of a logical reason for Dean's hips and ribs to be sore. Had he fallen at some point that day? Elizabeth hadn't mentioned it, but it was possible.

"Dean, did you get hurt today?"

"What? No."

Sam sighed. It couldn't be the memory. It just didn't make sense.

Dean was staring at Sam now. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sam said. "Do you want me to get you some ibuprofen?"

Dean shook his head. "I'll be okay."

"You should take something so you can go back to sleep."

"I don't think that's going to happen," Dean said.

"You should at least try."

Dean frowned and pushed the covers back. He sat up, grimacing, and slid over to the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Going to the living room, so you can get some sleep."

"What are you talking about? It's the middle of the night."

"And you have to work tomorrow. I'll be okay, Sammy. Just go back to bed." Dean stood and quickly masked the pain that flashed across his face for a moment. He grabbed their father's journal on his way out the door. Instead of going back to bed, Sam followed him to the living room.

"Sammy, what are you doing?" Dean asked when he reached the couch.

"I'm making sure you're okay."

"I told you I'm fine."

"You always say you're fine. You could be on your deathbed and you'd still be telling everyone you were fine."

Dean shook his head and gently eased back onto the couch. Once there, he opened his father's journal and began studying it.

"Is this what you're going to do the rest of the night? Just read that journal?"

"That's the current plan," Dean said, still staring at the journal, instead of Sam.

Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the table in front of Dean. "Don't do this, Man."

"What? Read?"

"Shut me out. You used to do it all the time. Honestly, I kind of liked that the new you would at least tell me when you were hurting."

Dean looked up. "Sam, I'm okay. I promise. Actually, the pain's fading now."

"What about your head?"

"It's okay."

"Really?"

Dean sighed. "Maybe a 4."

"Then you should go back to sleep."

"You don't get it, Sam," Dean said, standing. He dropped the journal on the couch and walked a few feet away.

Sam stood. "Then tell me. What is it? What's wrong?"

Dean shrugged. "It's like I can't sleep anymore. Not the right way anyway."

"The right way?" Sam asked.

Dean stared out the windows of the apartment, down onto the city. "I mean I only stay asleep for a few hours and then I toss and turn the rest of the night."

"I didn't know that," Sam said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to do? Wake you up so you couldn't sleep either?"

"If something's wrong, I need you to tell me," Sam said.

"So you can lock me up in the apartment?" Dean asked, turning to stare at his brother.

Sam looked away. "I'm sorry about that. I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not a little kid, Sam. I'm…" Dean looked down and shook his head.

"28," Sam finished quietly.

"Man," Dean said, turning away. "I can't even remember my own friggin' birthday."

"It's January 24thth," Sam said.

"How many people don't know their own birthday?" Dean asked.

"Actually, in the old days when people didn't keep records, several people didn't know their precise birth date," Sam said.

"Thank you, Mr. Encyclopedia, but this is different. And you know that."

"I know. I just want to help."

"But you can't."

The words hit Sam like an icy wave. It wasn't a revelation, but hearing it said out loud made him feel all the more powerless. Like watching Dean drown while he was chained to the dock.

Dean had returned to the couch now and was pulling the journal back onto his lap. "Look, Sam, I know you're trying to help, but I just need some space."

"Okay. I'll leave you alone," Sam said, slowly leaving the living room. He went back to his room and lie down, but now sleep was out of Sam's reach too. He was still staring at the ceiling when the sun's first rays came through the window.

--------

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Elizabeth asked, pulling down bowls from the cabinet.

"Yeah, some," Dean said. He closed the journal and slid it under the couch cushion before joining Elizabeth in the kitchen.

"Good. How's your head?"

"4."

"You want some cereal?"

"Sure."

Elizabeth pulled down the box of Lucky Charms and set it on the table in front of Dean. "Here you go," she said.

"My favorite," Dean said, pouring himself some cereal.

"I know. I bought two more boxes at the store yesterday and…" Elizabeth opened another cabinet and pulled out a bag of Peanut M&Ms "these."

"Sweet," Dean said, smiling.

"Well, now you'll have something to snack on while you study that journal." Elizabeth sat down beside Dean and poured her own bowl of cereal.

"Thanks," Dean said.

"No problem."

"I had a dream about my family," Dean said, pouring milk into his bowl.

"A memory?"

"Yeah."

"That's great."

Dean sighed, taking a bite of his cereal.

"Isn't it?" Elizabeth asked.

"I guess. It's just… every time I have another memory, Sam gives me this look, like…like he wants me to snap back into being me, you know, the old me."

Elizabeth nodded.

"And every time I don't," Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"You think he's disappointed."

"Something like that."

"He's adjusting, just like you are. Maybe you would feel better if you talked to him, told him how you feel."

Dean frowned. "I'm not really sure how."

Elizabeth smiled. "Just talk to him, like you talk to me."

"It's different with Sam. I just can't tell him stuff. I don't even know why."

"Maybe because Sam knew you before. I met you after the amnesia. This is the only version of you that I've ever known. But Sam has years of memories of you. Memories that don't match up with the you he's seeing every day now. And that puts pressure on both of you."

Dean nodded. "I feel like I'm letting him down."

"Dean," Elizabeth said, putting her head lower so that she could see his eyes even with his head bowed. "You're doing everything you can. I can't imagine anyone working harder to get their memories back. You can't blame yourself for this."

Dean didn't reply, but he did look up finally and nod.

"Do you want me to talk to Sam?" Elizabeth asked. "I could try to explain things to him, let him know how you're feeling."

"I don't think it would help," Dean said. "I mean there's really nothing he can do."

Elizabeth patted his arm. "Just try not to be too hard on yourself, okay?"

Dean nodded and went back to eating his cereal.

--------

When Elizabeth went into her room, she found a note lying on her keyboard, the one place Sam knew she would look. It read, "Come and see me at work. I need to talk to you."

So, as soon as Dean left for target practice, Elizabeth went to see Sam. She walked in and saw that Sam was busy serving a large family their food. When he looked up, he saw her standing in the corner and quickly excused himself.

"So you got my note," Sam said.

"Yeah. What's going on? What do you need to say that you didn't want Dean to hear?"

"I'm worried about him."

"That's not news, Sam."

"Last night, he had a dream that turned out to be a memory. Well, in the memory, he got hurt and when he woke up, he hurt in those same spots."

Elizabeth frowned. "But the pain must have gone away."

"Yeah, it did after a few minutes, but that can't be normal."

"Actually, Sam, it's pretty easy to explain. Lots of pain is purely psychological. Have you ever heard of phantom pain? Some people who have lost a limb say that they can still feel pain in it."

"I know, but with Dean's amnesia…I just don't want to take chances. The brain is complex. I want to make sure he's okay."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay. Dean has another appointment with Mark this afternoon to check on his headache medicine. I'll ask Mark about it then."

"Thank you."

"I'm still not sure why this had to be kept a secret. Dean already knows what happened last night and that you're worried about him."

Sam sighed. "He asked me to give him space. I don't know. It's like he doesn't even want to be around me anymore."

"Maybe he feels like he's disappointing you by not remembering."

"Disappointing me?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth looked at Sam a minute. "Sam, I've seen your face after the memories. Maybe I'm crazy, but I don't think Dean's that far off."

Sam stared at the ground a minute. "I wasn't trying to upset him. I didn't mean to."

"I know. You and Dean were really close before all this happened, weren't you? I mean, finish-each-other's-thoughts, predict-each-other's-moves kind of close."

"Yeah."

"And I always thought that was a twin thing. Rett and I were the same way. If he had lost his memories…" Elizabeth shook her head. "It would have been like losing a part of myself."

Sam nodded.

"But, Sam, Dean is getting his memories back. He is doing everything he can to be like the way he was before. He's trying to find his way back. You just have to be patient with him."

"I'm trying."

"I know you are. But Dean needs to know that you're gonna love him no matter what happens. He needs to feel like you'll accept him as he is, even if he never remembers anything else."

Sam stared at Elizabeth. "Okay. I'll talk to him."

"Good. Well, I should get back, in case Dean needs anything."

"Thanks, Liz."

"It'll be okay, Sam."

Elizabeth gave Sam a quick kiss on the cheek and then went back to the apartment.

--------

"Do you want to eat out somewhere?" Elizabeth asked Dean, as they walked back to her car after his appointment with Mark.

Dean shrugged.

"There's this sandwich place down the street. It's pretty quiet, usually. Do you want to try it? Or do you want to just go home?"

"We can go there," Dean said, sitting down in the front passenger seat.

"I won't make you go if you don't think you can handle it," Elizabeth said.

"No, I'm okay," Dean said.

"Okay."

Elizabeth drove them to the restaurant and they found a table in the back. There were only three other customers there and all were adults. Elizabeth watched Dean for any signs of overload, but this atmosphere was much quieter than the grocery store had been and Dean seemed to be doing fine. They ate their food and were almost finished when a waitress, carrying drinks to a table of four new customers, dropped her tray.

The cups shattered, sending soda and glass in all directions. Elizabeth shook her head, remembering her days carrying drinks. But for Dean, the image of broken glass had taken him somewhere else entirely.

Dean was young, maybe five years old and John had asked him to watch Sammy, who was sitting on the kitchen floor, playing with his toys. Dean had climbed up onto a cabinet, reaching for a cup, but the shelf came loose and all of the plates, bowls, and glasses on it went tumbling to the floor.

The crash was loud and Sammy started to cry right away. He tried to crawl away, but as soon as he did, he got glass stuck in his skin, causing him to wail even louder. John came running even before Dean could crawl down.

"Sammy!" John said, scooping the baby up. "Dean, what were you doing?"

"I just wanted a drink, Daddy."

"What were you thinking? Look at what you did to Sammy. He's just a baby. You were supposed to be watching him."

Suddenly Dean saw himself in another motel room. Sammy was older now, five or six years old. John was holding him on the bed, hugging him. "What happened?" John demanded.

"I-I just went out," Dean said.

"What?"

"Ju-just for a second. I'm sorry," Dean said.

"I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight."

And then Dean found himself standing beside John outside. They were in the woods and Dean knew that he was eleven years old. "What did I tell you to do?" John asked.

Dean looked down. "Force it back to the river."

"You were supposed to stay with it. Did I tell you to try something fancy?"

"No, Sir."

"Then why did you do it, Dean?" John asked.

"I thought I could catch it."

"But what happened?"

"It-it got away."

"Look at me!" John ordered and Dean forced himself to raise his eyes to his father. "When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it! Don't question me and don't second guess me! I know what's best. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"It's because of you that this troll got away tonight. If it hurts someone else before we find it again, it will be your fault."

Dean nodded, staring down at the ground again.

And then there were the flashes. They weren't full memories, just glimpses. Flashes of John glaring at Dean or telling him that he had messed up. They sped through Dean's mind so fast, he got dizzy.

And then, just as quickly, they were gone, leaving Dean back at the restaurant, sitting across from a very concerned Elizabeth. Dean blinked and stared over at her.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean had no time to respond. Instead, he leaned over the edge of the table and threw up on the floor. The other customers in the restaurant cast him dirty looks, but Dean didn't see any of them. He leaned back against the table and tried to draw in a breath.

Elizabeth walked around the vomit and knelt beside him. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean nodded, trying to push the memories out of his head. The waitress came over to the table with a mop and started cleaning Dean's mess. The manager of the shift came out to apologize to the other customers, telling them that they would all get their meals for free.

Elizabeth could sense the trouble coming. She tossed a twenty down onto the table and turned to Dean. "Do you think you can walk?"

Dean was still shaking, but he nodded and Elizabeth helped him to his feet. They started toward the door, but the manager blocked them. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to pay for damages," he said.

"What damages?" Elizabeth asked. "You have a tile floor."

"He should have gone to the restroom if he felt he was going to be sick. We have other customers to think about."

"We know. He couldn't help it. He's sick."

"If he's sick, then why did he come into a restaurant?" the manager asked.

Dean wanted to punch the man, but he knew that if he let go of Elizabeth he would collapse right there. Before Dean even realized what was happening, the manager was falling onto his butt, holding his nose.

"In the future, you should really try to have a little compassion," Elizabeth said, pulling Dean out of the restaurant. This time, no one tried to block them. Elizabeth led Dean outside and back to the car.

As they drove away, Dean grinned at Elizabeth. "I can't believe you punched that guy in the face."

Elizabeth shook her hand. "Neither can I. He just made me so mad. He had no right to treat you like that."

Dean leaned back in the chair.

"Do you feel any better?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah."

"It must have been a pretty bad memory."

Dean didn't say anything.

"I won't ask," Elizabeth said. "You don't have to talk about it. How's your head?"

"7."

"Okay, then we should get you back so you can rest."

--------

Dean went to bed, but he didn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flashes again. His head was swimming with information and he wished he had never gotten those memories back.

"Are you still awake?" Elizabeth asked, coming into the room.

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean thought about it. Usually, being alone didn't bother Dean at all. He possessed a somewhat solitary nature. But at this point, being alone meant returning to his thoughts. Dean shook his head.

Elizabeth pulled a chair up beside Dean's bed. "Do you want to tell me what's got you so upset?"

"It's nothing," Dean said.

"It's hard for you to be vulnerable, isn't it?"

Dean turned to look at Elizabeth, but said nothing.

"Guys are supposed to be tough, right? Untouchable, no emotions. But you know what? Everyone has emotions, even you. Sometimes you have to talk about things to feel better."

"I don't think I'm really the caring and sharing type," Dean said.

Elizabeth smiled. "I can tell. And it is scary to open up, because then someone might reject you. I'll tell you what. I'll tell you a secret and then you can decide if you want to talk to me about what's bothering you."

Dean didn't answer, so Elizabeth continued.

"When Rett and I were kids, we used to play in the storm shelter below our garage. We weren't supposed to go in there, because Mom and Dad said that it wasn't a toy. But when they were gone on business, sometimes we hid there, because then no one in the house could find us. Well, when Rett and I were six, our dad came back from a business trip a day early and caught us down there. He got so angry that he locked the door on us and made us stay there in the dark for two days. After that, we never went down there again. I still can't stand dark, tight places. I even have a nightlight to this day."

"Did you tell anyone?" Dean asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No one would have believed us. Or cared."

Dean frowned, staring back up at the ceiling. Finally, he said, "I disappointed him."

"Who? Sam?"

"No. Our dad. I saw all these memories and I disappointed him in every one."

"I'm sure your dad wasn't really upset with you."

Dean turned his head to face Elizabeth. "You don't know our dad. He was…"

"What?"

"Military. He was in the military. Not army, though. Something else." Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the information to come back to him. What branch of service had his father been in? It was such a tiny piece of information, but the fact that Dean couldn't get it back frustrated him. Just like all the other facts that had fled his mind.

"Navy?" Elizabeth guessed. "Um, Air Force? Marines?"

Dean shook his head. "I can't remember. Damn it! Why can't I remember?" Dean thrust his fists into the side of the bed.

"Don't try so hard," Elizabeth said.

"That's easy for you to say," Dean said, sitting on the bed. "There are all these holes. And I search and press for the answers, but they don't come. All these facts that are just gone. Like what town was I born in? What's Sam's birthday? What was my mother's maiden name? Stuff I should know. Stuff I used to know. And it's gone."

"It's not gone. It's just locked away right now."

"How are you always so calm?" Dean demanded, standing to pace.

"Well, I didn't see how it would be useful if I started freaking out too."

Dean stopped his pacing and shook his head. "Yeah, I guess this isn't really helping me remember anything either."

Elizabeth just stared at him, until Dean sank back onto the bed. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Dean, I understand why you're frustrated. I would be, too, if I were in your place. I would want my memories back immediately and I would want all those answers. But you can't force yourself to remember. Maybe the best thing for you would be to concentrate on other things until you do remember."

"Why?"

"Well, you know, sometimes I'll walk into a room for something and I can't for the life of me remember what I was going there to get. So, I go back to my desk and I start writing and soon enough, I remember what it was I needed. Sometimes the mind needs a break to remember. Maybe all this pushing you've been doing isn't actually helping you remember. Maybe it's actually hindering your memories."

Dean thought back to the memories he had gotten. They had all come at times when he was concentrating on something else. Not a single memory had come to him while reading his father's journal or stressing about his lost past. Maybe Elizabeth was right.

Dean shook his head. "But what I do? I mean, what else do I concentrate on?"

"Maybe we could get you a hobby," Elizabeth suggested.

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure. But we could go to a craft store and take a look around. There's one on the corner here. In fact, we can go tomorrow. But in the meantime, you really should try to take a nap. You look exhausted."

Dean didn't tell her that he felt exhausted, too. He just nodded. "Okay."

"Good. I'm gonna go start on supper. Do you want me to have Sam wake you when he gets home?"

Dean nodded.

"Okay. Sweet dreams." Elizabeth backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Dean didn't bother to say what he was thinking, that his dreams would probably be anything but sweet.

--------

It had been a long day for Sam and when he got back to the apartment, more than anything, he just wanted to sleep. He had forgotten how difficult normal jobs could be and how tiring. At least with hunting, you could work on your own schedule.

"Rough day?" Elizabeth asked when she saw Sam shuffle in.

"Yeah," Sam said, sitting down at the counter.

"I'm sorry. Maybe this will cheer you up. I mentioned your worries to Mark and he said it was probably nothing to be concerned about. If it happens again, we're supposed to call him, but he said that he's had patients before who woke up from dreams hurting. It's just a psychological fluke."

"Good. Was Dean okay today?"

Elizabeth debated how much to tell Sam. "He got some more memories back. I think they hit him pretty hard. He's resting right now, but he did want you to wake him when you got back."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Liz."

Sam slowly pushed open the door to the room he and Dean shared. Even in his sleep, Dean looked frustrated. His forehead was creased in a prominent frown line, his hands drawn up beside him in fists.

Gently, Sam sat down on the edge of his brother's bed. He hated to wake him; Dean seemed to sleep so little anymore. But Dean had asked him to and Sam was never very good at refusing his brother.

"Hey, Dean, I'm back," Sam said quietly.

Dean stirred, slowly opening his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to shed the grogginess surrounding him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"You lied," Dean said.

"What?"

"About Dad," Dean said, sitting up on the bed. "You said he was always proud of me, but that was a lie."

"Dean, I wasn't lying."

"I saw it today, Sam. All these flashes of times I let him down. I was just one big disappointment to him, wasn't I?"

"No," Sam argued.

"Quit lying to me, Sam!" Dean yelled, standing.

"Dad expected too much out of you. He expected perfection, perfect soldiers, but no kid is perfect. Dean, you did the best you could. You always gave everything you had."

"But it wasn't enough, was it?"

"Damn it, I didn't want you remember that stuff yet," Sam said.

"What else have you been hiding from me? Are you even really my brother?"

"Dean, how can you say that? You saw yourself carry me out of the house."

"I saw myself carry a baby out of the house. How am I supposed to know it was you?"

Sam couldn't hide the hurt he felt. He had known Dean would be angry with him for omitting some of the truth, but he had never expected Dean to doubt him. "I'm your brother, Dean. You know that."

"I don't know what I know."

Sam backed away. "Then I'll go back to giving you some space."

--------

"Okay, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked. Both boys looked up from their food.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"You two haven't said two words to each other since you got to the table. Plus, you're sitting on opposite ends of the table. Did you have a fight?"

Both boys averted their eyes and Elizabeth shook her head. "Okay. What did you fight about?"

"I don't want to talk about it," both boys said at the same time.

"Well, at least you have that in common. Come on, guys. You're brothers."

"So he says," Dean said, shooting Sam a nasty glare.

"Dean, do you really doubt that Sam is your brother?"

Dean didn't answer and continued playing with his food, moving it around on his plate.

"Dean, look at me!" Elizabeth ordered.

Reluctantly, like a four year old being punished for sneaking a cookie before dinner, Dean raised his eyes to Elizabeth.

"Dean, do you really doubt that Sam is your brother?" Elizabeth asked again.

Dean frowned and shook his head.

"Okay, then what is this really about?"

"He lied to me. About Dad."

Elizabeth turned to Sam. "Did you lie to him?"

"No, not really," Sam said.

"Sam."

"Okay, maybe I left some things out."

Elizabeth tilted her head. "Why did you do that?"

"Because Dad was always so hard on him and that caused Dean be hard on himself. I didn't want him to feel like he wasn't good enough, just because he fell short of some impossible standard."

Elizabeth turned back to Dean. "Dean, Sam was wrong to lie to you, but he was doing it to protect you."

"He's always trying to protect me. Why don't you let me decide what I can and can't handle, okay?"

"That sounds fair," Elizabeth said, turning back to Sam. "What do you say, Sam? No more secrets?"

Sam sighed. He desperately wanted to shield Dean from anything that could hurt him. Just like his older brother had always done for him. But more than that, he wanted Dean's trust back. "Okay. No more secrets."

--------

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep or even why he woke up in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the quiet. After sharing a room with Dean for a week, he had grown accustomed to rustling of sheets. Lately, Dean never remained still when he was asleep, at least not for very long at a time.

So, when Sam woke up to dead silence, he knew something was wrong. His eyes flew to his brother's empty bed and then the open door. Sam didn't even stop to put anything on, just ran out in his boxers.

When he saw Dean, he froze. The window was open and there was Dean, precariously perched on the ledge with nothing between him and a three story drop.

--------

**Author's note:** I know, I'm mean. Leaving Dean on the edge of a cliff, or in this case a window, like that. But I have to give you incentive to keep reading, don't I? And please let me know what you think. Seriously, I live for the reviews. I'm like a little kid at Christmas time, checking my computer every five minutes to see if anyone else has posted. I know, it's sad, but really, let me know what you think. I welcome any comments, as long as they're good. No, I'm just kidding. I read all the comments, good or bad, and carefully consider them in my writing. So, let me know what you think.

By the way, did anyone notice the two foods mentioned in this chapter? They are two foods that have also been mentioned on the show. Brownie points to anyone who can tell me the correct episodes without going back and watching the episodes again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Okay, I apologize for the wait. This week has been crazy with schoolwork and I've had to take time out of my writing to study for tests. Again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews. This chapter will reveal some more of Dean's past. And if you thought the last chapter ended with a cliffhanger, wait until you read this one.

Chapter Seven

Sam was hesitant to speak or move for fear that it would startle Dean and cause him to fall. Burt he couldn't just wait and hope that Dean didn't fall or jump. So, slowly, Sam began inching closer to the window and Dean.

Dean didn't turn, didn't even seem to notice that Sam was there. When Sam was finally close enough, he grabbed Dean around the chest and pulled him back inside, causing both brothers to fall to the ground. Dean shook his head and stared at Sam.

"Sam? What are you doin'?"

"Trying to keep you from falling out the window."

"Huh?" Dean asked, confusion registering on his face.

"Dude, you were leaning out the window," Sam said, pointing at the still-open window.

"No, I wasn't," Dean said.

"Yeah, you were. I had to pull you back in. You scared the crap out of me. I though you were gonna fall."

Dean frowned, staring again at the window. "I wasn't trying to jump. I don't even remember it."

"You must have been sleepwalking," Sam realized. "Were you having a dream?"

"Yeah, there was a little boy. He was trapped. The doors were locked, so I had to go in through the window. The house was on fire." Dean gasped as the rest of the memory hit him. "I didn't get to him in time."

Sam frowned. So many hunts. There had been so many hunts during their lifetimes, but Sam filed through his memories anyway, trying to come up with a hunt that matched the one Dean was describing.

"Dean, what were we hunting?"

Dean shook his head. "You weren't there."

"I wasn't there?" Sam asked. "Was this when I was at college?"

"Huh?" Dean asked, still absorbed in thoughts of the memory. "No. No, you were just a kid. You stayed with Pastor Jim."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven."

And suddenly, it all came back for Sam. That year was about the time that John started taking Dean on most of his hunts. Sometimes, Sam would stay with Jim for weeks at a time. Dean and John would come back in at night, always exhausted, but usually victorious.

Dean would always wake Sammy, let him know that he was back and safe and Sam could remember always sleeping better when he knew Dean was back. But on that hunt, Dean didn't wake Sam, at least not on purpose. Sam woke up to strange sounds and went to the bathroom to investigate.

That was where he had found Dean, kneeling by the toilet, heaving. It was the first time Sam could remember seeing his brother throw up. Sam had gone to him and asked what was wrong.

"Don't tell Dad," Dean had whispered.

"Are you sick?" Sammy asked.

"That little boy. He burned in the house. I was supposed to get him out. But the poltergeist set the house on fire too quick. I couldn't-" and Dean was heaving again.

Sam stared at Dean, who, at the thought of that old hunt, appeared on the verge of vomiting now. "Dean, Man, are you okay?"

"It was my job to get him out. Dad gave me a job to do and I failed," Dean mumbled. Dean no longer even seemed aware of Sam's presence; he was so caught up in the hunt that had ended badly nearly 17 years before.

"Dean," Sam said, a little more firmly.

Dean finally turned and looked at Sam. "He was six. And when I came back to Pastor Jim's and saw you…" Dean stopped, but Sam put the pieces together.

"He was my age. He reminded you of me."

Dean nodded. "Dad made me watch from the car when the EMTs pulled his body out of the house. His skin was all gone." And then, Dean did throw up all over the floor.

Dean heaved and heaved until there was nothing left in his stomach and even then, he couldn't seem to stop the motion. Sam stayed behind him, rubbing his back and murmuring that it was okay.

The noise brought Elizabeth out of her room and she hurried over when she saw what was happening. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"He had a dream, another memory."

Dean gasped in a breath and leaned back.

"Let's get him back to bed," Elizabeth said.

"No," Dean said, adamantly shaking his head. "No, I'm not going back to bed."

"How about the couch then?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean nodded and Sam and Elizabeth supported him enough to walk over to the couch. Once Dean was there, Elizabeth went to get a mop. "Do you need any help?" Sam asked, standing.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. You stay with Dean. I'll be right back."

Sam knelt by his brother again. "Dean, you're shaking. What's wrong?"

"I should have saved him."

Sam sighed. This was something he had hoped to spare his brother from for as long as possible. People died. People always died. It was part of the job. They saved as many as they could, but sometimes you just couldn't get to them in time. Sam had felt his share of guilt over failing to save people, but he always tried to move on. Dean, however, held onto the guilt, adding to it with each new person who died, like a snowball growing bigger as it rolled down a hill.

Sam went to the closet in the hall and brought out a blanket for Dean. He draped it over his brother, who was still shaking.

Elizabeth returned and began cleaning the floor. "Is he okay?" she asked as she worked.

"I don't know. He's shaking."

"Is he cold?"

"I don't think so."

"Does he have a fever?"

Sam put a hand to Dean's forehead and shook his head. Dean was warm, but not fever warm.

"Then, it's probably psychological. Try to get to get him to talk to you. See if you can calm him down."

"Dean, can you hear me? Look at me."

Dean turned his head toward Sam, but the shaking didn't stop. "I should have moved faster."

Dean was still fixated on the failed hunt. Sam knew he had to get his brother's mind on something else. Something better. "Dean, do you remember when I started having nightmares?"

Dean stared at Sam and shook his head.

"Well, I was about four or five and I started having these awful nightmares about monsters coming to get me. The first time it happened, I ran into Dad's room, because he was home at the time. But he just handed me a can of salt and told me to pour it around my bed.

"I was a little kid, so I was still scared. So I went into your room. You woke up and just looked at me for a second. Then, you scooted over and let me sleep in your bed. You asked me what was wrong and I told you about the nightmares. And you promised me that as long as you were there, nothing bad would ever get me. You even let me sleep against the wall, so that you were between me and whatever might get in the room."

Dean's breathing had slowed to a normal rate and his shaking had stopped.

"You always took care of me, Dean. I was never scared as long as you were around."

Elizabeth knelt by the brothers. "Feeling any better, Dean?"

Dean nodded, wincing at the headache that seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Did I ruin your floor?" he asked.

Elizabeth smiled. "No. Thank you for leaning over to the wooden floor and not throwing up on the rug. That made it very easy to clean. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good."

"Well, I'm gonna go see if I can sleep for a couple more hours then."

"Night, Liz," Sam said.

"Night," Dean said

"Goodnight," she said, glancing back at the boys before turning the corner.

"Shouldn't you go back to sleep too?" Dean asked.

"So, you can try to dive out another window?" Sam asked.

"Dude, it was one time and I was sleepwalking. It wasn't like I was trying to kill myself. 'Cause you know there are faster and better ways."

"Don't even joke," Sam said. "And I know that you were sleepwalking, which means it might happen again. And what if you actually jumped this time?" Sam shook his head. "No, I'm staying right here."

--------

"Sam, what time do you have to be at work?"

The voice pulled Sam from his dreams and he shook his head, glancing around. He was in the living room recliner and Elizabeth was standing over him.

"I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked seeing that Dean was no longer on the couch.

"He's in the bathroom," Elizabeth said.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked, already heading toward the bathroom.

Elizabeth caught him before he got there. "Sam, he's fine. He wanted to take a shower."

About that time, Dean exited the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. "Do you always hover outside the bathroom?" he asked, staring at Sam.

"I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," Dean said, brushing past him to go back to the couch.

"What about last night?"

Dean shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Sam repeated. "You almost killed yourself."

"It's only three stories. I probably could have lived through that," Dean argued, not bothering to look at Sam.

"Dean! That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Dean asked, looking up.

"You could have gotten hurt."

"And you're worried about me. I get it, Sam. But it's over. I don't know why you're still so worked up."

"Why did you let me fall asleep?"

"Because you needed it."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay," Dean repeated a little more forcefully.

"Sam," Elizabeth interrupted. "Doesn't your shift start at eleven?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah."

"You should probably go get ready then."

Sam looked back at Dean once more before nodding. "Okay."

When Sam left, Elizabeth sat down beside Dean on the couch. "You want some breakfast?"

"I'm not really hungry," Dean said.

"Okay. Did the headache go away?"

"Yeah."

Elizabeth stood. "Do you still want to go to the craft store today?"

"I don't know what we're gonna find there. I don't really think I'm the craft type."

Elizabeth laughed. "I'm sure we can find something for you. I'm just gonna have some cereal and then we can go. Okay?"

Dean nodded.

As Elizabeth carried her bowl to the sink, Sam came out ready for work. He glanced over at Dean and then went to Elizabeth. "Keep an eye on him, okay?"

"I will. Have a good day and don't worry about your brother, okay?"

"I'll try," Sam said, giving Elizabeth a quick kiss.

--------

"How about painting?"

"I'm a crappy artist," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Okay. How about working puzzles?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and Elizabeth sighed. "Okay, no on that. There's an aisle with cross-stitching and crochet."

"Those are all chick hobbies," Dean complained. "I can't do that stuff."

"Okay, something more masculine." Elizabeth paused a minute before grinning. "I've got it. Follow me." Elizabeth led Dean to the back of the store, where she paused beside a corner aisle. "This is a guy hobby, I promise. Take a look."

Dean stepped down the aisle and looked around at the shelves. "Model cars?" he asked.

"Yeah. My father has a whole collection of model cars he built as a kid. It takes time and patience, but it might be something you like. See anything you want to build?"

Dean looked around at the various models lining the shelves. After a few minutes, his eyes were drawn to a box. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Elizabeth asked.

"Check it out," Dean said, grabbing the box. He held it up for Elizabeth to see.

"A 1967 Chevy Impala? That looks familiar."

Dean nodded. "This is the one I want."

"Okay. Let's get you some supplies."

--------

When Sam got home that night, his eyes immediately searched the apartment until he found Dean. Dean wasn't hard to find. He was seated on the floor, leaning over something that was blocked from Sam's view.

"Hey," Elizabeth said, coming over to Sam.

"Hey. What's he doing?" Sam asked, gesturing to Dean.

"Building. He's been doing it all day."

"Building what?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Why don't you go have him tell you about it."

Sam walked over to Dean, who didn't even seem to notice that he was home. Dean was completely absorbed in the project in front of him. As Sam got closer, he could hear that Dean was humming to himself and the tune was one Sam instantly recognized.

"Are you humming AC/DC?" Sam asked, crouching down beside Dean.

"Hey, when did you get home?" Dean asked, looking up.

"Just a few minutes ago. Was that 'Back in Black'?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned. "I don't know. Was it?"

Sam looked at the small model sitting in front of Dean. It was still in several pieces, but it definitely resembled a car. "What are you making?"

Dean grinned and handed Sam the box with the finished product displayed on the front. Sam smiled and shook his head. "You found a model 1967 Chevy Impala?"

"It kinda found me," Dean said. "It just stood out."

"Elizabeth said you've been working on this all day."

Dean shrugged. "Didn't seem like that long."

Sam smiled. "I think it's good. I mean, you never really had any hobbies as a kid. Our whole lives were focused around training to hunt. You should have something else."

"Dinner's ready," Elizabeth said.

--------

Sam could sleep through the mumbling, was even getting used to hearing Dean mumble things in his sleep, but when Dean started screaming, Sam shot up in bed.

Sam ran to his brother's bedside, tripping on covers as he tried to get there as fast as possible. Dean was thrashing around, screaming.

"Dean, it's okay. Wake up. It's just a bad dream, Dean. Wake up!"

When Dean did open his eyes, Sam saw something there he wasn't used to seeing: fear. For as long as Sam could remember, Dean had been a pro at hiding all emotions, but of course, occasionally he slipped. Still, Sam could never remember seeing such raw fear on Dean's face before.

"Sammy! Sammy!" Dean called before he realized that Sam was right in front of him. When Dean did finally see that, he did something else Sam never expected. He grabbed Sam and hugged him. The embrace was so fierce that it almost knocked the wind from Sam's chest.

"I thought it killed you. I thought you were dead. I was supposed to protect you," Dean mumbled in such a rush that Sam could barely understand him.

"Dean, I'm right here. I'm okay. What's wrong?"

Dean pulled back slowly, staring at Sam. "That goblin."

Sam frowned. "When I was eight?"

Dean nodded. "It took you. You were with me. Dad said to watch you. Dad said to protect you."

Sam let his mind rewind to that hunt. It had been one of his very first hunts with Dean and his father. John told Sam to stay with Dean. John's instructions to Dean were much more demanding, "Don't let him out of your sight. You protect him at all costs. Do you hear me?"

Dean had nodded. The hunt was in late November, nearly two months shy of Dean's 13th birthday. A family had gone missing from the woods in Washington during a camping trip. After studying the area and the reports, John had determined that a goblin was responsible.

John had told the boys to wait in a specific spot, hidden behind some trees, but after four hours, crouched there, Sam had had enough. He stood, wanting to stretch his legs.

"Get down, Sammy," Dean had ordered. "Dad told us to stay put."

Sam ignored him, taking a few steps away from the designated spot. He had only gone a few feet, when both boys heard a rustling from the bushes. Suddenly, the goblin appeared, grabbing Sam.

Dean didn't even hesitate. He just rushed the goblin, fighting it with all his might, trying to pry his little brother from its grip. The goblin wasn't pleased by this and with one motion, sent Dean flying through the air.

Dean hit the ground with a hard thud, but he was immediately on his feet again, rushing the goblin as it started to retreat back into the brush. Dean knew that his knife would do nothing to kill the creature, but he hoped it would be enough to cause it to release Sammy.

As soon as Dean drove his blade into the goblin's shoulders, it screamed and grabbed Dean by the throat with one hand. Dean fought, but the creature was strong, slowly choking the life out of Dean. And then, everything went dark for Dean.

The creature hoisted a fighting Sam into the air and carried him back to its lair. Sam knew that as soon as the creature reached its lair, he was as good as dead. Goblins weren't terribly patient creatures and they were known for devouring their new prey as soon as they brought it home.

Luckily for Sam, John had heard the goblin scream when Dean stuck it with the knife. He intercepted the creature, just as it reached the entrance to its cave. The bullets caused the goblin to drop Sam. "Get back, Sammy," John ordered.

And then, John shot the creature with electricity, killing it. He carried Sam back to the spot where he had posted them. Dean was still unconscious. John set Sam down and knelt over his older son.

When Dean woke up, he immediately tried to get to his feet. John stopped him.

"Sammy! It got Sammy!" Dean yelled, fighting against his father's grip.

"Sammy's fine. Look, Dean. Your brother's okay."

Dean stared over at where Sam was sitting against a large tree. Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief. "You're alive," Dean said, grabbing Sam for a hug. "I thought…"

Dean didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. All three knew what he had thought. After that hunt, it was three full months before John took Sam on another hunt.

Sam stared at his brother, who was once again shaking. "Dean, it's okay. That was years ago. I'm fine."

"You could have died. I was supposed to watch you."

"It's not your fault. I was the one who didn't listen. You told me to stay put and I didn't."

"Doesn't matter. It was my job to keep you safe," Dean said, his voice shaking along with the rest of his body.

"Calm down."

Dean stood. "I need some air." Without waiting for a response, Dean left the room. Sam followed, watching Dean yank open one of the living room windows and stick his head out, gasping in large breaths.

After a few minutes, Sam went to stand next to his big brother. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean nodded.

Sam glanced up at the clock on the wall. "It's midnight. You should go back to bed."

"Not tired," Dean said, still not looking back at Sam.

"Dean, you haven't gotten a full night's sleep in days. Come on." Sam pulled on Dean's arm, but Dean shrugged him off.

"I'm not goin' back to bed, Sam. Leave me alone."

"You can't just stop sleeping."

"Go back to bed, Sam," Dean said.

Sam sighed. When Dean had decided to do something, or not do something, as the case may be, no amount of arguing could change his mind. And Sam was reluctant to try to force Dean to do anything he didn't want to do. "Okay. I'm going back to bed."

"Goodnight," Dean said, still staring out the open window at the city.

"Goodnight."

--------

When Elizabeth got up the next morning, she found Dean, sitting in the living room, working on his model. "You're up early," she said, sitting down cross-legged across from him.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Did Sam go in early?"

"They called and asked if he could work overtime today. He said he would."

"It seems like all he does anymore is work."

"I know."

"Did you sleep last night?"

Dean continued working on the model, focusing his attention there to avoid making eye contact. "A few hours."

Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head. "Dean, you know what Mark said. You need more than a few hours. If anything, you should be sleeping more than usual, not less."

"I'm okay," Dean said, still not looking up. "I've already had this lecture from Sam."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay, but you're at least going to eat something. Do you want cereal or frozen waffles?"

"Cereal," Dean said.

When Elizabeth had his bowl poured and his coffee made, she called to him to come and eat. Reluctantly, Dean put down his model and started for the table, but he never made it. He felt things going hazy and reached out, grabbing the couch to slow his fall.

When he opened his eyes, he was on the couch. Elizabeth was sitting on the table, leaning over him. "Dean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean said, trying to push himself up.

But Elizabeth shoved him back down. "No, you're not. You passed out and I suspect it's simply your body's protest to your recent lack of sleep. You can't continue like this. You have to get some rest."

Dean frowned and looked away, choosing to study the pattern on the ceiling instead of look at Elizabeth.

"Dean, what are you so scared of?"

At that, Dean's attention was pulled to her. He searched her face for some clue as to how she was able to read the emotions he thought he was hiding.

Elizabeth's face was soft. "Sam told me about your nightmares."

"What did he tell you?" Dean asked, fairly certain that Sam had kept certain parts of the memories secret.

"That you were having bad memories surface at night, memories where you made mistakes and hurt other people in the process, including Sam."

"I don't want to see any more," Dean whispered, looking back up at the ceiling. "I don't think I want any of my other memories back. I don't think I want to go back to that life."

"No one will force you to go back to anything."

"You don't understand. It's bigger than me. Sammy wants me to remember so things can go back to the way they were. He needs me to be normal again."

"Sam loves you. He won't force you to go back to anything. Look at what he's done this far. He's taken a menial job at minimum wage because he wanted to provide a stable environment for you."

"But just until I get back to normal. He needs me to be normal again. But…" Dean stopped, turning away.

"Dean, what is it?"

Dean's face was turned, allowing Elizabeth to only see the back of his head. "I can't. I gotta be strong for Sammy."

Elizabeth gently rolled Dean over until she could look at his face. "Sam's not here. And there's no reason for you to keep this shield up for me. You trust me, don't you?"

Dean drew in a shaky breath. "I'm… I'm scared of remembering."

Elizabeth frowned and wrapped her arms around Dean. "It's okay to be scared. The week after Rett died, I was afraid to leave my apartment. I was so scared that something bad would happen to me too."

Elizabeth pulled back, looking Dean in the eyes. "But you can't live like that. If you let fear stop you, then it's won. I was stronger than that. I forced myself to go outside and each time I did, it got a little easier. And you know what? You're stronger than that, too. You can't hide from who you were, Dean. And you wouldn't want to. But remembering who you were doesn't dictate your future. You always have a choice about who you want to be."

"You should be a writer," Dean said, trying to smile.

"And you are very good at deflecting when things get uncomfortably emotional."

Dean shrugged.

"You have to go to sleep, Dean. Even if you could somehow avoid sleep for the rest of your life, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. You're not a coward."

Dean frowned. "No, I'm not."

"I'll be right here when you wake up. I promise."

Dean nodded, easing himself back onto the couch. As tense as he was, he thought it would take him hours to fall asleep again, but when Elizabeth looked up from her book ten minutes later, Dean was unconscious.

"Your baby brother is in here, Dean," Mary said, smiling down at her first born.

"In there?" Dean asked, pointing at his mom's large stomach.

"That's right. And soon, Daddy and I are going to go to the hospital. You'll stay with Uncle Mike for a few days and when we come home, we'll have Sammy with us."

"Can he play football with me and Daddy?" Dean asked.

Mary laughed. "No, Sweetie, not right away. Sammy will just be a baby. We'll have to take care of him. And I'm going to need your help."

"Me?" Dean asked.

"That's right. It will be your job to teach Sammy all the important things you know. When he's a little older, you'll show him how to tie his shoes and how to catch a football and even how to sneak cookies from the cookie jar."

Dean grinned up at Mary, who ruffled his hair.

"Being a big brother is one of the most important jobs in the whole world. And you're going to be a wonderful big brother to Sammy."

Dean woke up, suddenly pulled from the memory of his mother. His chest was heavy and his cheeks were wet. Dean quickly wiped away any remaining tears.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

"I saw my mom, before Sammy was born. She told me I'd make a wonderful big brother."

"I think she was right. That sounds like a really nice memory."

"Yeah."

"Then why were you crying?"

Dean frowned. "I knew it wasn't real, just a memory."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago. It's no big deal."

"I'm not Sam, remember? You don't have to hide things. Your mom may have died years ago, but with your memories resurfacing like they are, it's almost like you're experiencing it all over. And I'm sorry for that. It's not easy to lose family."

Dean nodded. "I miss her, but I'm okay. Really."

"Okay."

"Liz?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Sammy I cried."

Elizabeth smiled. "Our secret."

--------

At first, Dean thought the scream had purely been in his nightmare. He was dreaming about a past hunt, after all. A woman had seen the monster he, Sam and his dad were fighting. Her fear manifested itself as a high-pitched shriek.

But when Dean bolted up in the bed and still heard the screams, he knew they were not inside his head, but in the apartment. He ran from the room, rushing past the living room/kitchen area, following the screams. They were coming from Elizabeth's room.

When Dean shoved the door open, he was shocked at what he saw. It was a man, or at least, it resembled a man. He wore dark clothes and his face was old and sallow. He had Elizabeth by both wrists with one of his large hands. In the other hand, he held a large, black sack.

"Dean!" Elizabeth called, her face revealing her terror.

Dean rushed forward, but the thing dropped his sack and threw Dean back against the wall. A shudder of pain rippled through Dean as he tried to stand. The thing grabbed his sack again and shoved Elizabeth inside. Then, before Dean could even move, the thing disappeared, taking his sack and Elizabeth with him.

**Author's Note:** Well, let's hear it. Let me know what you think of this chapter, especially the ending. I would love to hear guesses as to what supernatural creature you think our boys are up against. I'm anxious to hear your responses, so please do review.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I know that some of you were anxious to read about a supernatural creature in this story and I understand. I was actually ready for the boys to go on a hunt too. This isn't your typical hunt, but I think it works for this story.

Just a warning: This chapter is a very Elizabeth-centric chapter, but seeing as how the monster came after her, there was really no other way to do it. If you don't like Elizabeth, then I apologize because you probably won't enjoy this chapter. Dean and Sam are present and do play crucial roles here, as always, but I saw no other way to write this chapter. However, I promise that the next chapter will return focus to Dean and Sam.

Chapter Eight

If Dean had chosen not to go to the library with Elizabeth that day, he might not have required the nap. If Sam had gotten out of the restaurant before the manager received the call from the sick employee, he might have been home. If the boys had only told Elizabeth about their true selves, maybe Elizabeth would have been more prepared to defend herself. All of these thoughts haunted Dean while he waited for Sam to get home.

He hadn't been able to say much over the phone. He managed to get out that something had taken Elizabeth and that Sam needed to come home now. Fortunately, that was all the explanation Sam needed before promising Dean that he would be home in ten minutes.

Dean was pacing the living room when Sam walked in. Dean was visibly shaken, something Sam couldn't remember ever seeing. Dean was always so calm, even when things all went to hell. He always snapped back and came up with a plan that saved them. This time, though, Sam knew that if they were going to get Elizabeth back, he would have to be the one to remain calm.

"What happened?" Sam asked, facing his brother.

"There was something in her room. Looked like an old man. But when I tried to save her, it threw me and then – It was just gone. It disappeared. How are we supposed to find her, Sam? We have to save her."

"We will. Tell me about the man. What did he look like?"

Dean took in a breath and frowned. "He was dressed in black and he had a big sack with him. He shoved Liz into it before he disappeared."

"He shoved her into a sack?" Sam repeated.

"That's what I said, Sam," Dean said, his voice taking on an edge.

"Where's Dad's journal?" Sam asked.

Dean turned and went immediately to the third drawer in the dresser in their room. He pulled out the worn book and handed it to Sam, who began flipping through the pages. But several minutes later, Sam still had no idea what had captured Elizabeth.

"You don't know, do you?" Dean asked.

"I can't remember ever fighting something like this," Sam said, shaking his head.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Let me see what I can find," Sam said. He pulled out his laptop, which had gone largely unused in his time at Elizabeth's apartment. After a few minutes, he was online, plugging in the elements Dean had described into a search engine.

Dean paced behind him, trying to ignore the pounding right behind his eyes. There was no time for him to have a headache now. Elizabeth was in danger and they had to find her immediately. That much Dean knew.

Suddenly, Dean's head exploded in pain and he wasn't able to silence the moan he emitted as he leaned forward. Sam jumped up from the computer, bending down by his brother. "Dean, what is it? Are you okay?"

Dean was preparing himself to give a convincing response, but before he could say anything, he found himself staring at another room. "It was here," John said, examining the room. It was a child's bedroom, probably belonging to a boy no older than 9 or 10. "Damn!" John swore. "I hoped I was wrong."

"We've gotta find where he took the kid," Dean said.

When John turned back to Dean, there was a look of defeat on his face. "We can't beat this thing. There's no way to kill it."

"There's gotta be something we can do," Dean insisted.

"We have to get the parents to come with us. They're this boy's only chance of getting out alive."

Dean was talking before he even opened his eyes. "I know what this thing is."

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's the boogeyman."

The look he got from Sam in response was similar to that of most people when Sam or Dean revealed that the supernatural creatures they hunted actually existed. "The boogeyman?" Sam repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm serious, Sam."

"Okay," Sam said slowly, "then why doesn't Dad's journal mention him?"

"Because Dad never found a way to kill him."

"Then how do we get Elizabeth back?"

Dean blinked, suddenly feeling as though he were on one of the spinning rides at a carnival. And then, all his strength seemed to flow out of him.

Sam guessed what was about to happen when he saw the blood suddenly drain from Dean's face. He moved quickly enough to catch his brother before he hit the wooden floor. Sam mostly dragged Dean to his bed, surprised at how heavy Dean was when he was just dead weight.

Dean was only unconscious a few minutes and as soon as he woke up, he shot straight up in the bed. "Elizabeth's out there. We need to find her."

"Do you know where he'd take her?" Sam asked.

"In the past, it was always a basement, usually in the kid's house."

"Okay. You said that we can't kill it. Is there any way to hurt it?"

Dean nodded, standing. "Scissors. We have to stab it in the chest." As soon as Dean was on his feet, he was collapsing again, and Sam grabbed him and jerked him back to the bed.

"Lie down," Sam ordered.

"There's no time," Dean argued, trying to stand again. But this time, Sam's hands held him down.

"You're sick. You have to stay here. I'll find Elizabeth."

"No way. I'm not gonna just stay and take a nap while you fight this thing on your own."

"You don't have a choice. I'll find her." Sam hurried out of the room.

Dean stood, grabbing the bedpost until he felt the room stop swaying underneath him. As soon as he was able to move away, he ran after Sam.

Dean caught up to Sam in the basement.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked when he saw Dean.

"Did you find it?"

Sam shook his head. "It's not here. Neither is Elizabeth. Are you sure about this? I mean, I never heard Dad mention the boogeyman."

"Dad didn't talk about his failures," Dean said. "Besides, we faced this thing when you were at college."

"You remembered something from the last three years?" Sam asked.

"Just that hunt. This thing took three kids in the same state within a week's time. It's gotten tons of others over the years."

"But why Elizabeth?" Sam asked. "She's not a kid."

"I think it's 'cause of her relationship with her parents. This thing only takes kids who misbehave; kids who rebel against their parents."

"Then why aren't most of the world's teenagers victims?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. As far as I know, Dad never found a pattern for this thing."

"That doesn't make any sense. Everything has a pattern. Every supernatural creature has reasons for going after their victims. Why would this one attack randomly?"

"I don't know, Sam."

"And if nothing kills it, why would scissors stop it?"

Dean grabbed the stair rail behind himself to keep from falling.

Sam sighed. "Come on. Let's get you back upstairs."

"We have to find Elizabeth. She'll die in less than a day if we don't."

Sam put Dean's arm behind his head and supported Dean's weight as they made the trek back up to the apartment. Dean didn't make things easy, fighting Sam's help the whole way. But when Dean did succeed in pushing Sam away, he started to fall again, at least until Sam grabbed him more forcefully and dragged him up the stairs.

When they reached the apartment, Sam forced Dean back to bed. "I'm going to do some more research and you're going to rest," Sam said.

It was clear that Dean wasn't feeling well when Dean's only response to Sam's order was to lay his head back and close his eyes.

--------

Sam did return to his laptop, but he debated what to search for. Dean's explanation of the boogeyman didn't seem rational, even by Winchester standards. Everything had a pattern. That pattern wasn't always clear or easy to decipher, but it always existed. And Sam had never known his father to fail to find that pattern. No matter how long it took, John would labor over notes and books until he understood all about the creature, including a way to kill it. And scissors? Since when would scissors stop something that couldn't be killed? It all seemed too unbelievable.

Sam stared over at his brother, who was asleep in the next bed. Any other time, Sam would accept Dean's explanations without question, no matter how farfetched they were. But now… Dean wasn't well and all memories from less than five years ago had previously been locked to Dean. The memories he had recovered had come mostly from Dean's childhood and early teens. How could Sam be sure that this was even a real memory of Dean's and not just a dream?

Sam sighed. Dean had been sure that it was the boogeyman who abducted Elizabeth and Sam had no other leads. "I've always trusted you before," Sam said aloud to his sleeping brother. "Who can you trust if not your big brother?"

--------

"Did you find anything?"

Sam turned from his computer screen to see that Dean was propped up in bed, staring at him. "Uh, I found a few sites that mention the boogeyman legend. Apparently it has forms in all world cultures and a few mention a man who carries a sack and takes bad children away."

"Do you believe me now?" Dean asked.

"I didn't say I didn't believe you," Sam said.

Dean just stared at him a second, before continuing. "Did you figure out where it took Elizabeth?"

"Well, I'd say that her parent's basement is a good place to start looking."

Dean nodded. "Makes sense. Let's go."

Sam stood, watching Dean sway on his unsteady legs. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Yeah. Come on."

--------

"What are you gonna tell them? Hi, we think there might be a boogeyman in your basement?" Dean asked when they reached the Bryant's front door.

Sam rang the doorbell and a young woman answered the door. "Hi, is this the Bryant's home?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I'm Lucy, the maid. Um, Mr. and Mrs. Bryant are out right now. Can I help you with something?'

"Elizabeth asked me to get something of hers out of the basement," Sam said.

Lucy frowned. "How do you know Elizabeth?"

"He's her boyfriend," Dean said.

"If I could just get down there for a minute, it won't take long," Sam said, trying to squeeze past the maid.

But Lucy blocked him. "I'm afraid I can't allow strangers into the house. You'll have to come back when Mr. and Mrs. Bryant are home."

"It's really important," Sam said, giving her what Dean called his "puppy dog face".

Lucy just shook her head. "I'm sorry. Why don't you try back tomorrow morning."

"Are you sure we couldn't take just a quick peek?" Dean asked. "We'll be in and out. No one will even know we're there." He flashed her his grin and Lucy hesitated. "Come on. Please."

"I would help you, but I can't."

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"The Bryants don't even have a basement." Then Lucy shut the door.

Dean turned to Sam. "Great. So if they don't have a basement, where is it keeping Elizabeth?"

Sam just shook his head. "I don't know. When you and Dad were hunting this thing before, did he always take his victims to the basement?"

"Yeah. It was dark, somewhere that would scare a little kid."

_When Rett and I were kids, we used to play in the storm shelter below our garage._

"The storm shelter," Dean said. "There's a storm shelter below their garage. That's dark."

"How do you know they have a storm shelter?" Sam asked.

"Elizabeth told me."

Sam and Dean ran to the garage and Sam glanced around before picking the lock to the side door. A moment later, they were inside the massive garage. It wasn't hard to find the opening to the storm shelter on the garage floor.

"Ready?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded.

Sam pulled the door to the shelter open and the two went down the ladder. With their flashlights, they scanned the room. Elizabeth was tied up and gagged in the corner. As the boys started towards her, they were hit from behind.

Sam rolled over onto his back, shining his flashlight at the thing coming towards them. Dean's description had been accurate, right down to the black sack in the man's enormous hands. And now those hands were reaching out for Dean, who lie still on the floor.

The creature was leaning in over Dean. And suddenly, all of Sam's fears about taking Dean on hunts now flooded his mind. Those fears were shoved aside, however, when the creature suddenly disappeared.

Sam stared at the empty space where the creature had been. And there was Dean, twisted around onto his back, scissors still grasped firmly in hand.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean grinned. "I told you I could still hunt."

Sam let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding and went to untie Elizabeth. "Are you okay?" he asked, as he removed her gag.

Elizabeth nodded and hugged Sam. "I was scared."

"It's okay," Sam said.

"What was that thing?" Elizabeth asked.

"The boogeyman," Dean answered.

"How did you know how to kill it?" Elizabeth asked.

"I didn't kill it," Dean said, standing.

Elizabeth stared from Dean to Sam. "Then where did it go?"

"The scissors cause it to become incorporeal for several hours. But when it gets its strength back, it'll reappear," Dean explained.

"And will it come after me again?"

Dean nodded.

Elizabeth bit her lip, looking at both brothers. "Is there any way to stop it for good?"

"There is a way to keep it from coming after you again," Dean said. "But you're not gonna like it."

"What is it?"

"You have to reconcile with your parents."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. There has to be another way."

"If there is, I don't know it," Dean said.

Elizabeth looked around. "Can we at least get out of here?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Come on."

--------

The ride back to the apartment was a silent one. Elizabeth seemed lost in thought, trying to understand all that had transpired in the last few hours. Sam and Dean remained silent as well. When they entered the apartment again, Elizabeth went to the couch.

"I need to know something," she said, gesturing for the boys to join her.

"What is it?" Sam asked, sitting down beside her.

"Supernatural things are more than just a hobby for you two, aren't they?"

Sam nodded. "Dean and I, we used to hunt them."

Elizabeth smiled. "It all makes sense now. The hunting that you two talked about, the knowledge of supernatural creatures, the painful dreams Dean had, the drawings in that journal, the things Dean sometimes said in his sleep."

"You're taking this very well," Sam said, studying Elizabeth carefully.

"So all those things I write about. They're real?"

Sam nodded.

"Wow. That's incredible."

Sam kept staring at Elizabeth, waiting for her to fall apart, start crying, voice concerns over her current situation, but Elizabeth was just smiling. "Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth looked up at Sam, still smiling. "Rett would have loved this. I wish he were alive to hear that he was right. He always thought that those creatures really existed. Are the myths about them true?"

"Some of them. A lot of myth and lore is based in fact," Dean said.

"Are all those creatures bad? I mean, have you ever met one that was helpful?"

"Occasionally there are spirits who come back not to hurt anyone, but to warn people about their deaths," Dean said.

"And you killed the bad things? How many have you killed?"

"Wait, stop," Sam said, interrupting Dean who was already starting to answer Elizabeth's last set of questions. "Liz, it's normal to be scared or upset about this."

"Sam, I've been studying and writing about these creatures my entire life."

"Yeah, but that was when you thought they weren't real."

"But, don't you see, this means it wasn't childish. It wasn't a stupid hobby or a waste of time or any of the other things my parents called it. You've just validated my life's fascination."

"But now one of those supernatural beings is after you," Sam reminded her.

Elizabeth frowned. "Yeah, that's kind of a bummer. Do you know why it came after me?"

"You have a bad relationship with your parents," Dean said.

"Yeah, but doesn't the boogeyman traditionally go after children in the lore? I mean, I'm 23 years old. That kind of puts me outside his jurisdiction, doesn't it?"

"I was thinking about that," Sam said. "Liz, you said that your parents still pay for your apartment, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do they pay for other things? What about your car? Insurance?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, financially, you're still dependent on them. Like a child."

"So it's a loophole, essentially," Liz said. She was silent a moment before staring up at Sam and Dean. "Wait. A loophole. If I stop depending on my parents, does that mean the boogeyman can't come after me again? I mean, if I'm financially independent and outside the acceptable age range, I would be off limits, wouldn't I?"

Sam tilted his head and glanced at Dean. "Theoretically, that could work. But, Liz, are you really ready to give up everything you have?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Yeah, you do. You could make things right with your parents."

Elizabeth frowned. "You know what they did. They're horrible people. All they ever did was push me away. And now, you want me to go to them and act like we're some normal, happy family?" She shook her head. "I can't do it, Sam. I hate them."

"Have you ever heard their side of the story?"

"They don't get to have a side. They were the adults. They were supposed to be the responsible ones. They were supposed to take care of us."

"Adults aren't perfect, even parents."

"They didn't come back for the funeral. That's how much Rett meant to them. That's how much I meant to them. They were too busy having fun to care that Rett had died. I'll live in the gutter before I ever reconcile with them."

Sam sighed.

"Okay," Dean said. "Then we need to get your stuff packed and we need to get you out of this apartment. We've only got a couple of hours."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay." She and Dean stood and started towards the bedroom.

"Liz," Sam said, standing. "I need to ask you a favor."

"What?"

"Will you at least talk to your parents?"

"Sam, didn't you hear me?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah and I understand. I'm not asking you to reconcile with them. Just talk to them. Please?"

"Sam, why is this so important to you?"

"Because you're a good person and I know what it's like to live with guilt. I spent my entire life fighting with my father. The last time I saw him, I yelled at him. I would give anything for the chance to fix things with him. I don't want to see you make the same mistakes."

"Even if I did make up with my parents, it's not going to change what happened between you and your dad."

"I know. But then maybe my mistakes would mean something."

Elizabeth stared at Sam for several long seconds. "I'm not making any promises. You can't count on me to fix things with one conversation."

"I know."

Elizabeth sighed, glancing from Dean to Sam. "Will you two come with me?"

Dean nodded and Sam took Elizabeth's hand. "Of course."

"Okay. Let's go. Before I lose my nerve."

--------

The loud rapping on the front door brought Mr. Bryant forth in a robe. When he saw Elizabeth, Sam and Dean, he frowned. "What in the world are you doing here at 11:00? It's a little late for visitors."

"I need to talk to you and Mom," Elizabeth said, ignoring her father's comments.

"Couldn't this wait until morning?"

"No, Dad. Now or never. Do you want to talk to me or not?"

Mr. Bryant stared at Elizabeth a moment before moving aside. He gestured her inside, watching Sam and Dean follow suit. Mr. Bryant shut the door and led them to a large sitting room. "Well, if you'll just have a seat, I'll get changed and get your mother."

Mr. Bryant left and Elizabeth sighed. "I don't think I can do this, Sam."

"Yes, you can. Just say what you need to say. You'll feel better afterwards."

Elizabeth sat down on a brown leather couch and patted the cushions on either side of her. "Please sit, guys," she said.

Sam and Dean sank down on either side of Elizabeth. Then, the room was silent. At least until Mr. and Mrs. Bryant entered.

"What is this all about, Elizabeth?" Mr. Bryant asked.

"I need to know something."

"What's that?" Mrs. Bryant asked. She sat down in an easy chair across the room. Mr. Bryant took the other chair.

"Why didn't you come back for Rett's funeral?"

"What kind of question is that?" Mrs. Bryant asked, frowning.

"I need to know why you didn't love your son enough to come back for his funeral."

"Is that what you really think?" Mrs. Bryant asked. "That we didn't love him?"

"What am I supposed to think, Mom?"

"Elizabeth, we always loved you and your brother and we were devastated when we heard that he'd died. We wanted to be there."

"Then why weren't you?"

Mrs. Bryant closed her eyes and bowed her head. "We didn't think you wanted us there."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, springing to her feet.

"Well, Elizabeth, your mother and I discussed whether to fly back or not for hours. We finally decided that our presence would be an intrusion. Much like the rock climbing incident."

"Rock climbing? You mean when we were ten?"

"If you'll recall your mother and I flew back then. As soon as we got the call that Everett had fallen and was in the hospital, we rushed back. Don't tell me you've forgotten your response."

Elizabeth stared down, suddenly fascinated by the carpet.

"You started screaming the moment you saw us. You ordered us out of the room. Said that we had no right to be there. We weren't there when Everett got hurt and we shouldn't be there while he recovered. So, we left," Mrs. Bryant said. "And your father and I felt that you wouldn't want us to be at Everett's funeral, either."

Elizabeth looked up, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Is that really the truth? Is that really why you didn't come back?"

"I suppose we were also afraid to face you," Mrs. Bryant admitted.

"Afraid to face me?"

"You would say that we had never been there for you or for Everett and that we should have been in his life more. And now we would never have that chance."

"We just couldn't handle hearing that from you, Elizabeth," Mr. Bryant finished for his wife.

"Why?"

"Because we knew it was the truth."

"Losing Everett made us realize that we had a very poor relationship with our children. Ever since that time, we've wanted to remedy that, but we were afraid of how you would react. Honestly, I was shocked when Eric told me that you were here."

"I didn't exactly come of my own free will," Elizabeth said, glancing over at Sam.

"I thought as much," Mr. Bryant said, looking back at Sam. "Well, we should thank you, young man."

Sam only nodded, remaining silent and in the background.

"I've hated you for so long," Elizabeth said. "I don't think I can let that go."

"I'm not sure what else we could say," Mrs. Bryant said.

"I just need some time," Elizabeth said, finally.

Mr. and Mrs. Bryant nodded. "Okay. We've waited this long. What's a few more days," Mr. Bryant said.

--------

"I'm just not sure I can forgive them, Sam. I mean, I know you really want this to work out, but I'm not sure it can."

"I know."

"So, what next?" Elizabeth asked. "Do we pack up my things?"

"You should be safe for a while," Dean said.

"I thought you said that it would only be incorporeal for a few hours," Elizabeth said. "It's been that."

"Yeah, but you started the reconciliation process by talking to your parents. When Dad and I were hunting this thing that was all it took to make it back off."

"So, I'm safe?"

"Not exactly. If you stop the process, it could come back for you."

"So as long as I'm taking steps toward a better relationship with my parents, I'm safe, but if I decide that I can't forgive them, I'm in danger again."

"Pretty much," Dean said, nodding.

"Okay, well it's been a long night. I'm going to try to get some sleep. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Sam and Dean said as Elizabeth left the room.

"I want to hear about that hunt with Dad."

"The boogeyman hunt?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Tell me everything you remember about it."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't there and I want to know."

--------

"There was a pattern," Sam said.

"Huh?" Dean asked, turning from his model car to look back at Sam.

Sam turned his laptop towards Dean. "I started doing some research into those families you told me about. All of the parents were distant with the children for years, effectively cutting them off, but all of the parents reported trying to reconnect with their child only weeks before the boogeyman made his appearance."

"So Elizabeth's parents were telling the truth. They really did want to fix things with her."

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding. "The only question is if Elizabeth is willing to fix things."

"I'm willing to try," Elizabeth said, appearing in the doorway.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why the change of heart?" Sam asked.

"I had a dream last night. About Rett. He told me I couldn't stay angry at them. I know that if he were in my place, he would try to forgive them." Elizabeth sighed. "It's gonna take a while, but I'm gonna try."

Sam smiled, wrapping his arms around Elizabeth. "I'm happy for you."

"Does it make you feel better, Sam?"

"Yeah, a little."

Elizabeth smiled up at him. "Good." She turned back to the clock. "Hey, are you on the shift today?"

"Oh, yeah. I should probably get ready. Mr. Warren is not gonna be happy with me for skipping out last night."

"He's pretty forgiving, but you may end up on bathroom duty for a while."

Sam nodded and headed into the bedroom. When the door shut, Dean turned back to Elizabeth. "It wasn't just Rett that made you decide to try to make up with your parents, was it? You did it to help Sam, too."

Elizabeth smiled at Dean. "Sam needs some comfort. Anything I can do to give that to him, I'm willing to try."

--------

"Dean, can you help me set the table? Sam will be home any minute."

"Sure," Dean said, grabbing the plates Elizabeth had laid out for him. When he came back for the cups, Elizabeth looked up.

"Dean, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You look a little flushed. Are you hot?"

"Well, I've been told so on more than one occasion."

Elizabeth gave Dean a look. "Dean, I'm serious."

Dean shook his head. "Actually, it's kinda cold in here."

Elizabeth reached up and felt his forehead. "I think you've got a fever."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:** Okay, so you didn't really think things would be smooth sailing once the supernatural creature had been dealt with, did you? After all, things are never that easy for the Winchester boys. Besides, Dean still has some gaps in his memory. I can't just leave him like that. And I'm having way too much fun with this story to quit now. As always, let me know what you think. I live for the reviews.

And thank you to all of the people who continually give me feedback on my story. I really like to know people's thoughts after reading each chapter. In fact, when I read my story to my brother, Nole, I actually do read it to him. This way I can see what he laughs at and what parts he is puzzled by. So, I beg you to write at least a quick comment and let me know what you think.

Or you can give me longer feedback like gaelicspirit and laughandlove, two of my favorite reviewers. Big thanks to those two for always reviewing and giving me encouragement to write the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** First of all, I have to apologize for the long wait. I know that it sounds pathetic, but I really have been buried in schoolwork lately. Believe me, I didn't like it any more than you liked the wait. But I am sorry that it took me so long to post the next chapter.

As always, I've very grateful for all of the reviews I received. From what I read, it seems like nearly everyone enjoyed the last chapter. This chapter returns to seeing Dean suffer, which always makes for some good angst. And more of Dean's recent memories are on the way.

Chapter Nine

"I feel okay," Dean argued, setting the glasses he was holding on the table.

"I think we should take your temperature, just to be safe."

Dean sighed. "Whatever."

Elizabeth retrieved a thermometer from the bathroom. "Put this under your tongue." Before Dean could reply, Elizabeth added, "And don't talk. That would mess up the reading."

Dean gave her a look that conveyed his feelings about the matter without requiring any words. However, he obeyed Elizabeth and kept the thermometer in place as he moved back to the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean grabbed the silverware and held it up.

"You don't have to set the table right now. You might be sick."

Dean rolled his eyes and continued setting the table.

"You're hopeless. You do know that?"

Dean just grinned.

A minute later, the thermometer beeped and Elizabeth took it out. "101.2. You've definitely got a fever."

The sudden rattling of the door alerted Elizabeth and Dean that Sam was home. "Don't tell him," Dean said, turning back to Elizabeth.

"Dean, we can't hide the fact that you're sick."

"He'll just freak out over it. I'm fine."

"Even if we don't say anything, he's gonna notice. Your face is all red."

Sam walked in and hung up his coat. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I'd better check on the chicken," Elizabeth said, busying herself at the counter.

Sam came over to his brother and noticed his appearance at once. "Are you okay?"

"Let the babying begin," Dean muttered, taking his seat at the table.

"Are you sick?" Sam asked, putting a hand to Dean's forehead. "You should be in bed."

"Sam! I'm fine," Dean said, shoving Sam's hands away. "Liz and I already had this discussion. I feel okay, just cold."

"Did you take his temperature?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's comments.

"101.2," Elizabeth said, carrying the food to the table.

"Dean-" Sam started.

"I'm not going to bed, Sam. It's just a fever. Probably just a cold. I know you never forced me into bed with a cold before."

"Things are different now."

"No. I'm not gonna let you go back to treating me like I'm helpless."

"Why don't we just have dinner right now and worry about this later?" Elizabeth suggested.

Dean nodded and after a second, Sam acquiesced, taking his normal chair at the table.

--------

But as soon as dinner was over, Sam was giving Dean concerned looks again.

"Dude, stop looking at me like that," Dean said, standing.

"I'm just worried about you," Sam said, following Dean across the living room.

"Yeah, well, get a new hobby."

Dean reached his model car and sat in front of it, ignoring Sam's hovering presence. After a minute of silence, Sam sighed. "Don't you think you should get some rest?"

"Don't you think you should shut up?" Dean said, still concentrating on his car.

Sam could see that Dean would not be going to bed, short of him dragging Dean there. And as long as Dean was occupied with his model, Sam knew he would be safe. "Okay. I'm gonna help Liz with the dishes."

Dean offered no response as Sam left the room.

"He'll be okay, Sam. His fever's not that high. It probably is just a cold or some other virus going around."

"It's just, it seemed like he was getting better and now…" Sam let his sentence trail off.

Elizabeth nodded. "I know. Maybe what you need is something to take your mind off your brother." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, close enough to kiss. And Sam allowed himself to be swept up in the kiss, trying to push the worries from his mind.

--------

Kissing was the extent of the contact between Sam and Elizabeth that evening. Though Sam longed to be comforted, he simply couldn't ignore his newest worries about his brother. Elizabeth sensed Sam's reluctance and didn't press him.

After a few minutes of kissing and close embraces, Elizabeth suggested finishing the dishes. Sam nodded and the two of them washed, dried and put away the day's dishes. When they finished, Elizabeth caught Sam's arm.

"I'm here for you, Sam. For whatever you need."

"I know and thank you. The same goes for you. If you need to talk about what happened to you."

Elizabeth smiled. "Yeah, I doubt if many other people would understand being abducted by the Boogeyman."

Sam laughed.

"I'm not sure that I ever thanked you. For coming to rescue me, I mean."

"We weren't gonna just let it kill you."

"I guess you probably save people like that all the time."

"Yeah, but you weren't just another person. It would have hurt to lose you, for both Dean and me. Though he'd never tell you that."

"You know, it's weird, but ever since you and Dean got here, living's been a little easier. Before you came, I used to cry all the time, missing my brother. I was going through the motions of life, but I wasn't really living it. So I guess you could say that you've been rescuing me since you first walked through the front door of my apartment."

"I kinda feel the same way. It's been a long time since I had someone close, other than Dean and with him losing his memories, it was really rough."

"It's okay, Sam. I guess it's good we found each other."

Sam could only nod.

--------

When it got late, Sam knelt by his brother. "Hey, Dean, it's almost midnight. You should probably get to bed."

"Since when do I have a bedtime?" Dean asked, not looking up.

"I'm not forcing you to go to bed, I'm just telling you that it's late and I'm going to sleep. Okay?"

Dean looked up and nodded. "Okay." He put away his model and followed Sam into the bedroom. "Hey, did you and Elizabeth have fun doing the dishes?"

"We were just kissing, Dean."

"Kissing is usually a pretty good transition into something else," Dean said as he pulled off his shirt and shed his jeans.

"Well, neither of us wanted sex. We were just comforting each other."

"You are such a girl," Dean said, shaking his head. "I bet you're even into the whole cuddling thing."

"Dean, this isn't really a conversation I want to have."

Dean grinned as he pulled on another shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

"You don't usually sleep in all that stuff," Sam commented.

"Guess I forgot," Dean said, refusing to meet Sam's eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Sam," Dean said, a decided edge to his voice.

Sam shook his head, allowing the subject to drop. As soon as Dean was in his bed, Sam reached over and turned off the light. Then, Sam lay there, listening. He didn't fall asleep until after he heard Dean's rhythmic breathing.

--------

When Dean opened his eyes the next morning, he briefly considered pulling the covers over his head and trying to sink back into unconsciousness. But it was already nearly noon and Dean knew that Elizabeth would worry if he didn't make an appearance soon.

So, he pulled himself up and threw some clothes on, three layers, including his leather jacket. When he left the hallway, he found Elizabeth sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up as soon as his movement caught her eye.

"Hey, Dean, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," he lied.

"Do you want to sit?" Elizabeth asked, gesturing at the space beside herself.

"Sure," Dean said. He sank down onto the couch, grateful that it was so close.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you cold?"

"No," Dean said, but was betrayed by the involuntary shiver that rippled through him.

Elizabeth smiled. "I'll go get a quilt from the closet." She returned with the blanket and draped it over Dean. "Better?" she asked.

Dean just nodded. "Sam went to work?" he asked.

"Yeah, although I had to promise him that I would call if you got any worse. Speaking of which, we should take your temperature again."

Dean let his head fall back onto the headrest of the couch in silent protest.

"You can't blame us for being concerned about you."

"I know," Dean said. He took the thermometer from Elizabeth and stuck it under his tongue.

When it beeped a minute later, Elizabeth sighed. "I'd better call Sam."

--------

"How high is it?" Sam asked, pressing a hand over his free ear to block out the noise of the restaurant.

"102.3," Elizabeth said. "I already called Mark and asked his opinion. He said that there's a nasty flu going around, but he also promised to stop by at the end of his shift."

"Good. Thanks. Look, I'm going to see if I can get someone to cover for me and come home. How does he look?"

Elizabeth turned back to look at Dean, who was flipping through the channels on the television. He almost appeared normal, except for the quilt wrapped firmly around his body. "He's still complaining that it's cold, but other than that, he seems fine."

Sam let out a breath of relief. "Good. At least there's that. Just keep an eye on him. I'll be home soon."

"Okay." Elizabeth put the phone back in its cradle and went closer to Dean.

"Sam coming back?" he asked, not bothering to look away from the television screen.

"He said he'd be here as soon as he can," Elizabeth answered.

Dean tried to sigh, but ended up coughing, instead. The cough was so strong he leaned forward, struggling to draw in a solid breath. Elizabeth was beside him in an instant, watching him with an expression of concern. When Dean was able to straighten, he took in a few small breaths.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean nodded.

Elizabeth stood and brought him a glass of water from the kitchen. Dean took small sips, trying to soothe his raw throat.

"Is your stomach okay?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Then you should eat something, so I can give you something for the fever. What would you eat?"

"Something hot," Dean said, pulling the blanket in tighter.

"How about some soup?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean nodded.

--------

When Sam entered the apartment only half an hour after he hung up with Elizabeth, he found his brother seated on the couch, sipping soup. "Do you want some soup, Sam?" Elizabeth asked from behind him.

Sam turned to see that she was dipping a second bowl of soup.

"Sure," Sam said.

Elizabeth dipped two bowls and handed one to Sam. "I thought we could pull the TV trays out and eat in the living room."

Sam was grateful that Elizabeth understood his desire to be close to his brother without him having to explain it. Somehow being near Dean made Sam feel like he could protect him better, even though the rational part of Sam's mind told him that there was nothing he could do to take away Dean's flu.

"How is it?" Elizabeth asked Dean as she and Sam sat in the living room chairs.

"Good," Dean said.

"Did you take the ibuprofen?" Elizabeth asked.

Dean grabbed the two brown pills from his tray and swallowed them in one gulp. Then he leaned back against the couch, trying to hide the chills tearing through him.

Sam could see Dean shivering and wished for some way to help him. But Sam also knew that being sick always had a devastating affect on Dean's pride. So, Sam pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the television screen.

But when Dean was overcome in a fit of coughing, that was impossible to ignore. When Dean straightened, Sam quietly asked, "Are you okay?"

"Sure. You only need one lung to live anyway, right?" Dean asked, leaning back against the couch.

"Do you need anything?" Sam asked, knowing full well that the answer would be a no.

Dean shook his head, trying to concentrate on the television show. "Man, daytime TV sucks," he said after a minute of silence.

Sam laughed. "You've mentioned that before." Sam tried to push the image of his pale brother, lying in the hospital bed, slowly dying of a weakened heart out of his mind. That time had been too close. Dean had come far too close to death's door and even the memory of it made Sam ache.

"Dude, are you getting sick too?" Dean asked.

Sam shook himself out of that thought train and looked over at his brother. "What?"

"You look like you've been sucking on a lemon," Dean said.

"It's nothing."

Dean said nothing more, turning away again.

--------

After finishing lunch, Elizabeth excused herself to finish her next article for the magazine and Sam was grateful for the time alone with Dean. He was even more grateful that Elizabeth seemed to intuitively know what he needed without him having to explain it.

"You didn't have to rush home from work just 'cause I got a case of the sniffles," Dean said, not looking at Sam.

"I think it's a little more than that."

"It's the flu, Sam. It's not gonna kill me."

"I just wanted to be here to see that you were all right with my own eyes, okay?"

Dean glanced over at Sam and shrugged. "Whatever, Dude."

Only a few minutes later, Sam noticed that Dean's eyelids were drooping and he was consciously fighting sleep. "Why don't you lie down for a while?" Sam suggested gently.

"I don't wanna lay down," Dean responded immediately, reminding Sam of a stubborn 6 year old.

"You're not still afraid to sleep, are you?" Sam asked.

Dean's eyes darted over to Sam. "I'm not afraid. I'm just sick of sleeping all the time."

"Well, you obviously need it."

"You obviously need to mind your own business, but you're not doin' that either."

"Dean!" Sam said, frustration seeping into his voice. "Why do you have to make everything difficult?"

"Part of my charm," Dean said, grinning.

--------

Despite Dean's protests, eventually, his body gave up the fight against sleep and he drifted into unconsciousness. That was when he saw his father, surrounded by fire, consumed in pain, and screaming in agony. Dean tried to go to him, but found that this body wouldn't move.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, yearning with all his being to relieve his father's suffering.

John looked up, seeing Dean for the first time. There was too much pain for him to answer, but his eyes pleaded for Dean to help him.

Again, Dean found himself fighting to go forward and help his father, but was held back. "Dad." This time it was more of a cry.

Dean could see dark shapes moving around in the background. One of the dark shapes approached, taking on a more human form as he neared Dean. The demon smiled at Dean. "Foolish boy. You have no power here. Soon enough, you'll be ours too. Until that time, we have your father to torment."

"No!" Dean yelled.

The demon laughed. "Eventually all of you Winchesters will join us here. One big happy family. Do you want to see what you have to look forward to?"

The demon moved aside, allowing Dean a clear view of his father's torment. Dean desperately wanted to turn away, but found he couldn't pull his eyes from his father.

Dean wasn't sure how long he watched before he felt strong hands on his chest and arms. That was when he was jarred back to Elizabeth's apartment. Sam had his hands on Dean's chest, stopping him.

"Dean, are you awake?" Sam asked, seeing Dean's eyes flutter.

"We have to help him," Dean mumbled, feeling his strength leave him.

Sam strengthened his grip on Dean, keeping him upright. "What are you talking about?"

"Dad," Dean said, his voice shaking. His father's screams still echoed in his ears. The agony his father endured still fresh on his mind. Dean could even still feel the heat from the fire. But the worst memory for Dean was that of his father's face, drowning in everlasting torment.

Dean didn't even realize he had thrown up, until Sam set him down on the couch and Dean saw the vomit on Sam's shirt and pants. "Sorry," Dean whispered.

"It's okay," Sam said. "I think your fever's gone up." Sam stuck the thermometer back in Dean's mouth. "Leave that. I'm gonna go change."

When Sam returned a minute later in clean clothes, he removed the thermometer. "It's up to 102.9," Sam sighed.

Dean didn't even seem to hear him. He was simply staring ahead, his eyes unfocused.

"Dean," Sam said gently. "Are you okay?"

"I saw Dad."

"In a memory?"

"No. In Hell. He's suffering."

"Dean, you didn't really see him. It was just a dream."

"How did he die, Sam?" Dean asked, finally turning to look at his brother.

"I told you. He died protecting someone. We weren't there."

"Who was he protecting?" Dean pressed.

"I don't know," Sam said. And in Sam's mind, that wasn't completely a lie. After all, they didn't know exactly what had happened. Maybe their father's death had nothing to do with Dean. This was what Sam told himself while he lied to his brother.

Much to Sam's surprise, Dean let the subject drop. Dean let his head fall back against the couch while his body shook with more coughs. Sam brought his brother a glass of water, which Dean took with shaking hands.

--------

"Thanks for coming, Mark," Elizabeth said that afternoon, as she allowed her cousin into the apartment.

"No trouble. It was on my way home from the hospital anyway."

Sam was standing behind the couch and turned as Mark approached. "Mark, this is Sam, Dean's brother," Elizabeth said.

Mark shook Sam's extended hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Mark, Elizabeth's cousin."

"Yeah, she told me about you," Sam said.

"Likewise," Mark said. "So, I hear that Dean isn't feeling well." Mark came forward and dragged a chair over beside the couch where Dean was still lying. "You said he had a fever and the chills?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth said.

Mark stuck the thermometer in Dean's mouth. "Anything else?"

"Coughing," Elizabeth said.

"He threw up earlier," Sam added.

Mark nodded. "Those are all symptoms of this latest flu virus." When the thermometer beeped, Mark studied it. "When did you last take his temperature?"

"A couple of hours ago," Sam said.

"How high was it then?"

"Uh, not quite 103 degrees."

"Well, it's over 103 now."

"Is that dangerous?" Elizabeth asked.

"Not yet. If it gets over 104 and stays there for more than a few hours, despite attempts to bring it down, then we have a problem."

"Have the other people with this flu been running fevers this high?" Elizabeth asked.

Mark nodded. "We've had some patients hover around 103 for nearly 24 hours. Dean's in good shape, so this shouldn't hurt him. But if you want to be safe, take him to the hospital."

"No," Dean said immediately. "No hospital."

"It's just to make sure you're okay," Elizabeth said.

But Dean shook his head forcefully, looking back at Sam. "No hospital." After a pause, Dean added, "Something bad happened there, didn't it?"

Sam's mind flashed to the image of his father's body, lying on the floor of the hospital and then on the bed with doctors crowded around, trying to restart his heart. Dean and Sam had stood in the doorway, watching, as their father was pronounced dead. "We don't have many good memories associated with hospitals," Sam admitted.

Mark nodded. "You're not the first to feel that way." He returned his stare to Dean. "But, if this fever of yours goes over 104 degrees or if it remains in the hundreds for more than 72 hours, you're going to the hospital. No choices. Understand?"

Dean nodded.

"For now, you can take care of him here. You just need to try to bring down his fever and manage his other symptoms. Have you given him anything for the fever?"

"Ibuprofen."

"Okay. Keep giving him 400 mg. every 4 hours." Mark looked at Dean's quilt and layers of clothing. "Liz, do you have a sheet?"

"Sure," Elizabeth said, retrieving one from the hall closet. When she handed it to Mark, he pulled the quilt off of Dean and tossed it into one of the recliners.

"Hey," Dean said in protest.

"Bundling you up is not gonna help bring your fever down. I know it feels like you're cold, but we need to treat the fever. Take off your jacket."

Dean didn't move, instead crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

Mark looked up at Sam. After a second, Sam sighed and reached down to remove the jacket. Between Mark and Sam, they pried the jacket away from Dean, who was weaker than usual. Then, they removed the second shirt. When Dean was down to one layer, Mark placed the sheet over him.

"This is for the chills. Liz, could you wet a washcloth for me?"

Elizabeth nodded, moving toward the bathroom.

"Use warm water," Mark called after her.

Dean shivered against the sheet, glancing over at the quilt.

Mark shook his head. "Trust me, this is for your own good. If you want to avoid a hospital visit, this is the way to do it."

Dean didn't reply. When Elizabeth returned with the washcloth, Mark placed it on Dean's forehead. "Try to keep it lukewarm. When it gets hot, wash it off in lukewarm water again," Mark instructed. "Don't use cold water, because that will make his shivering worse, which could actually cause his fever to go up instead of down."

"Anything else we should do?" Elizabeth asked.

"That should do it for now."

"Thanks a lot, Mark. I really appreciate this," Elizabeth said, walking Mark to the door.

"I don't mind. After all, what are cousins for? You've got my number. If he gets worse or you have any other questions, give me a call. Okay?"

Elizabeth nodded, hugging Mark. "Thanks."

Mark nodded at Elizabeth. "Nice meeting you, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam said. "You too."

As soon as Elizabeth closed the door, the two returned to Dean. "There has to be something you two could do that's more fun that staring at me," Dean said, giving them both a half smile.

--------

"You have a responsibility here, Sam," John shouted.

"You just want me to stay here where you can control me!" Sam shot back. "I'm not gonna live like that."

"You think you're too good for this life?"

"I never chose this life! You did. If you want to be miserable forever, that's fine. But you're not taking me with you. I'm going to Stanford."

Dean listened to the shouting while the knots in his stomach tightened. "Guys, stop," he tried, but Sam and John were both far too stubborn to quit now.

"You can't run away from who you are, Sam!"

"I'm a lot more than your soldier! I have a full ride to Stanford and I'm going to be a lawyer."

"And you're just going to leave your brother and me? Throw your family away like we don't matter?"

"Guys," Dean said with a little more force, but both men were oblivious to his pleas for peace.

"As if we were some happy family to begin with? We've never been a family. We've always been your warriors and I'm sick of it. You don't even know what a father is."

"If that's how you feel, then go," John yelled, rage shining in his eyes. Only Dean could see that behind the rage, there was hurt. Sam and John could always hurt each other with only a few words. "And stay gone! We don't need anyone who abandons family so easily."

"Fine!" Sam exploded, grabbing his things. He didn't even look back and when the door slammed shut, Dean felt a sickening despair overtake him.

"Sammy, you left," Dean mumbled. It was so quiet Sam could barely make it out from his chair next to Dean.

"I didn't leave. I'm right here," Sam said, touching his brother's shoulder.

"You went to Stanford."

"That was years ago. I'm here now and I'm not leaving," Sam promised.

Dean's eyes were still closed, but he turned his head in Sam's direction. "Mom died. You left me. Dad left me. Everyone leaves me. Why am I always alone?"

Sam frowned. Dean didn't talk like that. Even right after he lost his memories, he was still very detached. Very unemotional. "Dean, are you awake?" Sam asked.

"Mmm," Dean mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Am I a bad person? Why does everyone leave me?"

The questions were too well phrased for Dean to merely be talking in his sleep. Sam had heard Dean talk in his sleep. Once Dean recited a list of girls he had recently hooked up with, though Sam was fairly certain the list was incomplete, due to Dean's inability to remember names. Still, Dean had dutifully listed girls, but his words were slurred and his sentences were incomplete and choppy.

This was different. This was more like a real conversation, except for the topic. "Hey, Liz, come here!" Sam yelled.

A minute later, she appeared in the entrance to the living room. "What's wrong?"

"Come here. I think something's wrong."

After a brief description, Elizabeth sighed. "I think we should call Mark. It sounds like Dean's picked up another symptom. He's delirious."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:** The list of girlfriends was an idea I got from my dad. He was the second of four boys and growing up, he shared a room with his next youngest brother. One night, that brother, Steve, started talking in his sleep and begin mentioning the girls he had dated. So, my dad got out a pencil and paper and wrote them all down to tease his younger brother. I thought it was a funny story, so it stuck with me. It's funny the things you can use in your writing.

As always, let me know what you think about this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Just a warning: There are lots of spoilers for the first season episode "Faith" in this chapter and also some spoilers for "In My Time of Dying." So, if you haven't see those episodes and don't want to know what happened in them, don't read this chapter. Okay, you've been warned.

I have to apologize for the long wait between the last chapter and this chapter. Although schoolwork has been heavy, I have taken time from my writing to spend selfishly. My brother and best friend, Nolan, was home last week for spring break, so I chose to spend time with him rather than write. Being fans of Supernatural, I hope that all readers will understand when I say, family always comes first.

Now, on to the story.

Chapter Ten

"Am I a bad person?" Dean repeated.

Sam's heart ached at those words. He knelt down beside his brother. "No, Dean. You're not a bad person. I shouldn't have left you to go to Stanford. You have no idea how hard it was. I wanted to leave hunting behind, but I should have found a way to keep you in my life. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay, Sammy."

"Try to get some rest, Dean. We'll try to find a way to make you feel better."

"No hospital," Dean whispered.

A minute later, Dean was sleeping again.

"We could take him to the hospital," Elizabeth suggested.

"He was adamantly opposed to that," Sam said, sighing. "How high is his fever?"

"It's still at 103.6," Elizabeth said, studying the thermometer.

"Mark said that it wasn't dangerous until it hit 104," Sam said, reasoning aloud. "Let's keep a close watch on him for now. If his fever continues to rise, we'll take him to the hospital."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay. Why don't you take a break for a while? I'll watch Dean while you rest."

"No. I should stay."

Elizabeth didn't argue, instead pulling a chair up beside Sam's. "He's gonna be okay, Sam."

"I've come so close to losing him so many times," Sam said, eyes still fixed on his brother. "There was the werewolf pack in Oregon, the demon in Michigan, the heart attack he suffered while trying to kill that Rawhead, the reaper sent after him by the preacher's wife, the car wreck with Dad..." Sam's voice trailed off for a minute. "When I saw him fall off that roof with the doppelganger, I knew this was gonna be it. We'd finally run out of luck."

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Sam. "I'm so sorry. It sounds terrible. Losing Rett once almost killed me. If I had to face his possible death so many times, I don't think I could have handled it. What you and Dean do… it's amazing. You're heroes and most people will never even know you exist."

"It's not so bad," Sam said. "If we wanted to be famous, we would have gone into acting. It's always been about saving people."

"What about saving yourselves?"

Sam shook his head. "I guess sometimes we forget that part."

"Dean is going to recover," Elizabeth promised. "And not just from the flu, but from the amnesia too. The world needs you too much to lose either of you."

For the first time since Dean got sick the night before, Sam found himself smiling. Elizabeth knew exactly what to say to soothe away some of the pain. Even in the midst of his worries for his brother, Sam could feel some of his fears lifting.

"Thanks," Sam whispered.

--------

Dean slept fitfully for most of the evening. Occasionally, he would mumble something, but most of what he said was unintelligible, even to Sam. At one point, Dean even woke up screaming. Sam rushed over, putting his arms around his brother, and Dean quickly lapsed back into unconsciousness.

When it got late, Sam woke Dean so that he could take his temperature. Dean didn't seem coherent enough to understand what was going on, but he didn't fight them. Elizabeth stood behind Sam, both waiting with suspended breath for the numbers to appear.

When the thermometer read, "103.8," Sam wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried. Dean's temperature was still below the 104 mark, but Dean's behavior suggested to Sam that he was very sick.

Elizabeth watched Sam expectantly. "We can still take him to the hospital, Sam, if you're really worried."

Sam sighed. "Not yet." Sam settled back in his seat across from his brother, the seat he had barely left all day.

"Do you want me to sit up with you?" Elizabeth offered.

Sam shook his head. "No. I'll be fine."

Elizabeth bent and kissed Sam on the cheek. "Okay. Wake me if you need anything."

Sam nodded as Elizabeth disappeared around the corner. Dean was lying down again, eyes closed. Sam ran the warm washcloth over his brother's face and watched Dean flinch away from it. "You have to get through this, Dean," Sam whispered. "I know you don't remember this, but you're the only one who can save me or do what's needed if you fail."

It was the first time since Dean had gotten hurt that Sam had even thought about his destiny. For the last few months, he had been so focused on taking care of his brother, that Sam's worries about his own future had been pushed to the back of his mind. But now, with Dean remembering more and more of the recent past, Sam's own memories were returning to torment him.

"Gotta take care of Sammy," Dean mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Dad's first rule," Dean said. "I gotta take care of Sammy. No matter what. Gotta save Sammy."

Sam frowned. It wasn't new information. For as long as Sam could remember, John had been telling Dean to take care of him. Before John left for any hunt, those instructions were given to Dean. When Sam started accompanying John and Dean on hunts, those instructions became much more forceful and the burden was always placed on Dean.

And when Sam got hurt, Dean took it as a personal failure on his part. "I was supposed to take care of you," Dean would say. Sam could remember a hunt where he had broken his leg. Despite the fact that John too had failed to reach Sam before he fell from the balcony of the house with the malevolent spirit, Dean felt responsible. Sam could see that Dean was greatly upset by Sam's injury and in the two months while Sam was in a cast, Dean did everything he could for Sam.

"It was never your fault the stuff that happened to me," Sam said, staring down at his sleeping brother. "But that didn't matter to you, did it? It didn't make it any easier. You just wanted to make it better for me. I think I get it now. I think I understand how you felt."

--------

It was just before sunrise when Dean awoke, opening his eyes. Sam, who had been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep, sat straight up. "Dean, are you awake?"

Dean squinted up. "Sam? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at college." Dean looked around. "Where are we? Where's Dad?"

"Dean, it's okay. Calm down," Sam said, preventing Dean from getting up.

"What happened? Is Dad okay?" Dean asked.

"Dean…" 

"He's dead, isn't he?" Dean asked, studying Sam's face. "I should have had his back. That shapeshifter came out of nowhere."

"The shapeshifter didn't kill him, Dean. It wasn't your fault that Dad died."

"It was something else?" Dean asked. "How long have I been out?"

"Dean, what year do you think it is?" 

"2004." 

"It's 2007," Sam said.

Dean just stared at Sam a moment, before shaking his head. "No. I was just with Dad. Just a few hours ago."

"You and I have been hunting together since 2005, when you came and got me at college. Dad died several months ago. A few months ago, you hit your head on a hunt and lost your memories."

Dean frowned at Sam.

"We've been staying with Elizabeth since a few weeks after your accident. This is her apartment. We just rescued her from the boogeyman."

Dean stared around at the apartment a moment, as if trying to take it all in. Finally, Dean asked, "Where's my car?"

"It's in the parking lot. Right down there," Sam said, pointing at the window.

Dean was already standing and making his way to the window before Sam could stop him. Dean seemed to visibly relax once he saw that his car was safely parked beside the apartment building. And then, Dean was falling backward, collapsing. Sam grabbed him, catching him.

Dean's eyes were still open and he stared up at Sam. "Sorry."

"For what?" Sam asked.

"I'm supposed to take care of you," Dean said.

Sam helped his brother back to the couch. "I think it's time I caught you. Go back to sleep."

And Dean closed his eyes.

--------

"You haven't been awake all night, have you, Sam?" Elizabeth asked when she came into the living room the next morning.

"I slept a little."

"I'll make some coffee."

As soon as Elizabeth brought the coffee, Sam excused himself to go to the bathroom. When he returned, he was shocked to see that Dean was sitting up on the couch.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked, kneeling by his brother.

"You worry too much, Dude," Dean said.

"You're soaked," Sam said, noticing the sweat covering Dean's forehead, clothes and blanket.

"His fever broke," Elizabeth said. "Probably pretty recently. His temperature is down to 100.7. Still a little high, but much better than it has been."

"Do you feel better?"

"I'm fine, Sam."

"What do you remember?"

"Led Zeppelin rules." 

"Dean!"

Dean grinned. "You've been asking me that question for months now. I'm getting tired of answering it. I remember most of my childhood and teens. I still don't have more than a couple of memories from the last five years."

"Are you hungry?" Elizabeth asked.

"I could eat," Dean said.

"I'll fix you some soup," Elizabeth said, standing.

"How about real food," Dean said.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'll see what I can find, but you are not getting your M&Ms until after you've eaten something good for you." 

Dean grinned as Elizabeth turned and walked away. Dean tried to stand, but he soon found that his legs no longer wanted to support him. So, Sam held onto him. "Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I need to take a leak," Dean said. "I thought Liz would prefer if I did it in the toilet instead of on her couch." 

"Oh, right," Sam said. He helped support Dean as he walked, but when they reached the bathroom door, Dean stared up at him.

"Uh, Dude, I know we're close and all, but you are not gonna hold me up while I piss."

Sam smiled and released Dean. On swaying legs, Dean headed into the bathroom and shut the door.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, Sam was holding clean clothes for him. "I can dress myself, you know."

"But this way you don't have to stand any longer than you need to."

"God, Sam, I'm not glass. I'm not gonna break. Are you gonna be this weird forever?"

Sam decided not to respond, instead simply shoving the clothes into Dean's hands. "Get dressed."

Dean rolled his eyes as he closed the bathroom door again.

Sam fully intended to wait at the bathroom door for his brother, just in case Dean was still too shaky to walk alone. But when Elizabeth asked for Sam's help in retrieving a dish from the top cabinet, he left his post.

"What did you decide to make?" Sam asked, handing her the requested item.

"Rice, toast and applesauce. It's part of the BRAT diet. You know, what you're supposed to eat after you've been sick. They're all really bland foods."

"Yeah. Dean may object to those being 'real foods', too," Sam warned.

"I'll just bribe him with his peanut M&Ms. Tell him he has to finish his plate before he gets any candy."

"He'll love that," Sam said, laughing. "He already thinks we treat him like a little kid."

"But he'll still eat it. And not really because of that bribe. That's just a way of saving face. He'll do it because he knows you're worried about him and he would do anything to take care of you," Elizabeth said, already fixing the rice.

"Me too."

"I thought it would be nice if we ate the same foods, too," Elizabeth suggested. "That way at least Dean won't be alone in eating the bland foods."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Sam said.

"Well, it's what Rett and I used to do when the other one was sick. Or being punished."

"Punished?" Sam asked, grabbing the plates and glasses for the table.

"Yeah. I remember, one of our housekeepers, uh, Mrs. Roland, Mrs. Riley, something like that, anyway, she caught me sneaking a cookie before dinner. So, she told me that I couldn't have any cookies that night. So, after dinner, when Rett got a plate of cookies as dessert, he gave them back. Said he wasn't hungry."

"Maybe he wasn't," Sam said.

Elizabeth smiled. "You don't know Rett. There is no way he would ever pass up chocolate chip cookies, full or not. He did it for me. To make me feel better." Elizabeth sighed. "Anyway, um, there're some bananas by the breadbox, if you want to grab them."

Sam laid a banana at each person's place and fixed toast. When he was finished, he stared back at the bathroom. "Does it seem like it's taking him a long time to change clothes?"

Elizabeth looked up from the rice she was fixing on the stove and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. "Maybe you should check on him."

Sam didn't need any more encouragement. Thanks to his long legs, he had crossed the room in only a few strides and was knocking on the door only moments later. "Dean, are you okay in there?"

When he received no answer, he shoved open the door. There was Dean, sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. "Dean! Dean! Liz, come here!"

Sam checked for a pulse and found one thudding heavily under his fingertips. Dean's forehead was still warm to the touch due to the fever he maintained. Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. "Any idea what happened?"

"My guess is that he fainted. Maybe he got another memory. Maybe it was the fever. I don't know. Let's just get him back to the couch."

Once Dean was lying flat on the couch, Sam began running checks. Dean was still breathing normally. There were no apparent bruises or cuts. His temperature was still at 100.7. The only thing that worried Sam was Dean's racing heart. Sam was contemplating calling for help when Dean opened his eyes, gasping.

"Did we get it? Is it dead? Did you get the kids out safe?"

"Get what?" Sam asked.

"The rawhead. It was in that basement. There was so much friggin' water."

"Yeah, Dean. You got it," Sam whispered, remembering all too well what had come next. After rushing the children outside to safety, Sam ran back into the house, knowing his brother would do whatever necessary to kill the monster.

The first thing Sam saw when he ran down the basement stairs was Dean, lying in a pool of water. Fear flooded Sam, a fear that only grew when the doctor told him that Dean would die in less than a month. Sam had pleaded with the doctor for some treatment, even a long shot. Sam could still hear the doctor's words.

_"We can't work miracles. I really am sorry."_

"My chest hurts, Sam," Dean said, closing his eyes.

"Oh God, not again," Sam said. He couldn't go through it again. The faith healer, Roy Le Grange, had healed Dean's heart. Made him as good as new, with a little help from his wife's pet reaper.

"What is it, Sam?" Elizabeth asked.

"Dean. About a year ago, he had this massive heart attack and he barely survived. But he was healed."

"Calm down, Sam. This is probably just a phantom pain. Dean's had them before after memories. Remember? But, just in case, I called an ambulance. It's already on its way."

Sam nodded. And sure enough, not five minutes later, they could hear the sirens approaching.

--------

Sam and Elizabeth met the doctor in the hallway. The doctor smiled at them. "Dean's going to be fine. His ECG showed a normal heart rhythm and the blood work shows no indication of any damage to his heart. It was probably just a panic attack."

Sam let out the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding and closed his eyes in relief. "Thank you."

"But we are admitting him for observation."

"Can we see him?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sure."

Dean grinned when Sam and Elizabeth entered his curtained area. "Told ya you didn't need to worry." 

"I've seen you suffer through one heart attack." 

"After the rawhead?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, sitting down beside Dean's bed. "Yeah. Do you remember?"

Dean frowned. "I think so. You did everything you could to save me. You even dragged my ass to a faith healer."

Sam laughed. "That's right."

"And we stopped a reaper. How long ago was that, Sam?"

"About a year."

Dean stared up at the ceiling. "Then, Layla would…"

"Maybe not. We don't know. And even if she did die, it wasn't your fault."

"If the reaper had taken me, he could have healed her."

"It wasn't right," Sam argued. "That preacher's wife had no right to do what she was doing."

Dean sighed, closing his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I'm just tired."

"You should rest," Sam said, standing. "Liz and I will let you get some sleep."

Dean just nodded and Sam and Elizabeth backed away.

--------

"So you destroyed the necklace and the alter and the reaper left Dean alone?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah. And Sue Ann died."

"The reaper came after her. I guess he didn't like being a pawn," Elizabeth said.

Sam nodded. "Most supernatural creatures don't react well to being controlled. The minute they're free, they go after their captors." 

Elizabeth nodded. "Makes sense. It's too bad Roy Le Grange wasn't the real deal. Having a real faith healer on your side would certainly come in handy in your line of work."

Sam smiled. "Yeah." 

The two of them stopped in the hallway of the hospital, staring at the plaque now adorning the wall. Elizabeth smiled. "I still can't believe Dean got this up for me. The hospital administrator is supposed to be very unreasonable. Mark says she's a pain in the ass to deal with and she never gives in to anything." 

"Dean can be very persuasive." 

"With women, you mean."

Sam grinned. "Yeah. He's always been good at that." 

"You can be pretty persuasive yourself, Sam. I've seen that sad face of yours."

"Dean calls it my 'puppy dog look'." 

Elizabeth laughed. "That's a good name for it. Speaking of Dean, it's been a few hours. Do you want to go back and check on him now?"

Sam nodded and the two walked back through the hospital.

--------

When Dean was told he could go back to Elizabeth's apartment, he was more than ready. Being in the hospital made him uneasy, for reasons he didn't even know. All he did know was that being inside the hospital put a pit in his stomach that refused to go away.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded, following Sam and Elizabeth down the hallway. As they passed one of the rooms, suddenly a monitor began screeching. The three of them were shoved aside while nurses and doctors flooded the room.

Dean watched, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him. And then, it hit him. The memory slammed him so hard he gasped and fell against the wall.

The car crash. Waking up in the hospital, but he wasn't really awake. He was in a coma. Still, Sam found a way to communicate with him. But the resident reaper informed Dean that he would never get back into his body. He would either become an angry spirit or he would move on to the afterlife. And Dean was about to give his answer when something intervened, throwing Dean back into his own body.

"I almost died," Dean gasped. "I was in a coma."

"After the car wreck," Sam said.

"There was a reaper after me. She said I wouldn't come out of the coma." 

"You remember?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"You didn't remember that before," Sam said. "I mean, after you came out of the coma, you couldn't remember what had happened in that time."

"I don't wanna stay here," Dean said, his voice shaking despite his best attempts to the contrary.

Sam nodded, leading his brother out of the hospital to Elizabeth's parked car. Elizabeth drove and Sam slid into the backseat beside his brother. "Are you okay?" 

"There's more that I'm not remembering," Dean said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, there's this pit in my stomach. Something bad happened. I just can't remember what it was."

"Give it time," Sam said.

Dean wrapped his arms around his stomach and stared out the window, effectively shutting out Sam and Elizabeth. The sight triggered Sam's own memories. How many times had John shut out his sons in a similar manner? Sometimes, he would stare out the window for hours. Sam could remember being a small child and asking Dean why Daddy looked outside so much.

"He's thinking," Dean explained.

"About what's outside?" 

"About Mom," Dean corrected.

This inevitably led to questions about Mary. Sam had no memories of his mother and knew nothing of her, except what Dean told him. Sam had tried asking John about Mary, but John simply turned away from his youngest son, remaining silent. So, Sam turned to Dean for answers. And no matter what Dean was doing, he would answer. Dean was never too busy for Sam.

"Dean, do you remember Mom?"

Dean seemed surprised by the question and stared at Sam a minute before answering. "Most things, I think. Why?" 

"Tell me what you remember," Sam said.

"Why?"

"Because however little you remember about Mom, it's more than what I have."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, studying the seat a moment. "I remember that she used to smell like lotion and perfume. And she smiled all the time, especially after you were born, Sammy. And she made Dad smile, too. He was never angry around her."

"It's hard to picture," Sam said.

"He was a different person then. He used to take me to the park and push me on the swings. We played football in our backyard. And every day, when he'd come home from work, he'd swing me up onto his shoulders."

"That sounds nice," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah." Dean looked up at his brother. "I'm sorry you don't have those memories, Sammy. I wish you did."

"It's okay. I don't need them. Not when I've got you."

Dean smiled a little before returning his gaze to the window.

--------

Elizabeth made her way to the bathroom in darkness, but when she heard the moans coming from the boys' room, she stopped. She figured it was another nightmare of Dean's. It seemed he had an endless supply of memories to torment him.

She paused a moment at the door. She didn't want to intrude or invade their privacy, but after another agonizing moan, she decided that she had to act. She pushed open the door and stared inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When she saw that Dean was sleeping peacefully, she was puzzled. At least until she turned to Sam's bed.

Sam was no longer in his bed. Instead, he was crouched on the floor, holding his head in his hands. Elizabeth knelt by him. "Sam, are you awake?"  
When Sam opened his eyes, Elizabeth could see the pain he felt reflected there. "Are you okay?" she asked, worry filling her.

Sam groaned. "I saw it."

"Saw what?" Elizabeth asked.

"You're gonna die."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:** All right, let's hear it. Comments about the chapter, guesses as to what's going to happen, even random thoughts. All are welcome subjects for reviews. Before I leave you, I will give you a hint about Elizabeth's death in Sam's dream: it involves flames, but it isn't what you think.

I can guarantee that it will be at least a week before I post another chapter because I have two papers due and a test this next week. But I'll do my best not to make you wait as long as I did this time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Okay, I know. I failed miserably in trying to get this chapter out quicker than my previous chapters. I really did have the best intentions to get this one out quick. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men. If it makes you feel any better, I've basically cut sleep out of my schedule in the last few days so that I would have time to write on this chapter and finally post it.

Okay, this chapter has spoilers for several episodes. These spoilers may be only a sentence or two about the episode in question or they may be a little more. Still, I wanted to warn everyone. I referenced "Pilot", "Home", "Playthings", and "Devil's Trap".

I also want to remind everyone that I consider this story to take place between "Playthings" and "Nightshifter". Hopefully, that will put the story in proper perspective. Thanks for reading. Now, on to the story.

Chapter Eleven

Sam's words didn't even register with Elizabeth and she was already helping him back onto the bed and feeling his head for a fever. "Sam, I'm going to get you some painkillers and a glass of water," Elizabeth said.

"Did you hear me?" Sam asked, grabbing Elizabeth's wrist before she could move away.

"It was just a dream, Sam. It's okay. Relax. I'll be right back."

"No," Sam said, forcefully. "It wasn't a dream! It was a vision! What I see comes true. Unless we do something to stop it."

Elizabeth paused for a second. "Wait, you mean you really get premonitions?"

"Yes," Sam said, nodding his head for emphasis. His head throbbed in protest and he allowed Elizabeth to force him back onto his pillow.

"I'm going to get you some aspirin and water. I'll be right back."

This time she was out the door before Sam could even react. When she returned with the promised items, Sam studied her face. "Do you believe me?" 

Elizabeth sat down beside Sam, handing him the glass and the pills. "Why shouldn't I? There are all kinds of unexplainable things out there."

"Does it, knowing this about me, I mean, does it… change anything?" 

"You mean, am I afraid of you or upset about it?" Elizabeth smiled. "Of course not, Sam. You should know me better than that by now. I think it's really cool that you have visions of the future."

"They're usually about death. They're not that great," Sam said, swallowing the pills and handing the glass back to Elizabeth.

"You said that you could change what you see. That sounds like a great ability. A way to save lots of people."

"They don't happen that often and they always involve The demon somehow."

"The demon? What demon?"

"The one that killed my mom and my girlfriend."

"This demon caused those fires?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah." 

"Is that what you saw happening to me?"

"There was fire, but it was different somehow. There was someone controlling it. He must be one of the kids like me, people with abilities that The demon wants to use."

"Did you see what he looked like?"

"Yeah."

"Then, we can stop him." 

"You're awfully calm about this," Sam said, studying Elizabeth's face.

"I trust you, Sam. You'd never let anything bad happen to me." 

A sudden image of Jessica, pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from her torso, surrounded by flames, and yet, still alive flashed in Sam's mind. "I let Jessica die."

"Did you see her death in a vision?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Sam stared down at the bed sheets, refusing to look up at Elizabeth. "Yeah, but I ignored it. I wanted it to just be a dream. I didn't want to believe I was different."

"Different is good, Sam. I think you're amazing."

Sam looked up, seeing only support on Elizabeth's face. "You're not like anybody I've ever met."

Elizabeth grinned. "Thank you." She sighed. "So, what do we do to stop me from dying?"

"We need to figure out who this guy is that's going to attack you and stop him before he gets the chance." 

"First thing tomorrow. Will you be able to sleep?" 

"Not when I'm worried about you."

"Well, I'm going to bed. If you want to protect me, then I guess you'll just have to come with me."

--------

Sam found sleep impossible. Even after the pain from his vision subsided, his worry kept him awake. He ran through plans in his mind, replayed his vision over and over, trying to gleam some new clue from it. And he watched Elizabeth sleep.

"Everyone around me dies." Sam could still remember telling his brother that. Rarely did Sam consume enough alcohol to get drunk, but since learning about his destiny, he had found the thought of being too hammered to remember it, all the more enticing. And when Sam allowed himself to drown the pain in tequila, he opened up to Dean about how scared and upset he really was.

"Yeah, well, I'm not dyin'," Dean had responded immediately. A bold promise from someone constantly taunting death. A promise he had nearly broken, again, when he fell off that roof.

Sam watched Elizabeth for several minutes. "I let Jess down, but I'm not gonna let you die, too. Whatever it takes, I'm gonna protect you."

--------

After hours of lying in bed, Sam decided to get up and do something constructive. He turned on Elizabeth's computer and began searching Internet databases, trying to locate the man he had seen in his vision. Despite Sam's hacking skills, none of the searches he tried led to anything but a dead end. "Who are you and why are you after Liz?" Sam asked, picturing the man in his head again.

"Talking to yourself, Sammy?"

Sam whirled around to see Dean, leaning against the doorframe. Sam was instantly on his feet and checking Dean's forehead for a temperature. "I think you've still got a low-grade fever," Sam said.

"I'm fine," Dean said.

"What are you doing up this early?" Sam asked, noticing that it wasn't even seven yet. Morning had never been Dean's favorite time of day and Sam could remember several mornings trying to rouse Dean so they would actually get to school on time. Not that it ever mattered much. They never stayed in any school for more than a few months. But school was important to Sam and he wanted to be there, even if Dean didn't. So, after stealing Dean's covers, blaring his brother's music and threatening to drive the Impala himself, Sam always succeeded in pulling his older brother from bed.

"I had a dream," Dean admitted.

"A memory?"

Dean shook his head. "So, what are you doing on Liz's computer? Didn't you learn your lesson before, College Boy?" 

"I'm not looking at her files, just the Internet. And if it wasn't a memory, then what was the dream about?" Sam asked, refusing to be sidetracked.

"It wasn't a big deal," Dean said. "What were you looking for on the Internet?" 

"I'll tell you after you tell me about your dream," Sam said, staring at his brother.

Dean looked at Sam a minute before heading down the hallway. "I'm not that curious," Dean said, without looking back.

Sam, however, wasn't going to let it go that easily. He followed Dean all the way to the kitchen. "You saw Dad again, didn't you? In Hell?"

The fact that Dean said nothing confirmed Sam's suspicions. "Dean, talk to me."

"There's nothin' to say, Sam. It was a dream and it's over."

"But the fact that you keep having this dream means something."

"Okay, Dr. Phil. If you're gonna stand there, can you at least grab the cereal from that cabinet?" 

Sam got the cereal down for Dean, while Dean grabbed milk, a bowl and a spoon and headed to the table. While Dean began eating, Sam debated how to phrase the question he knew he had to ask. "Dean, you remembered being in a coma from the car crash. Did you remember anything else?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What else is there?" 

"I just thought maybe you got some other memories from the same time is all," Sam said.

"No, that's it. So, what were you looking for on the Internet? Did you find us another job?"

"Actually, it kind of found us. I had a vision last night about someone attacking Elizabeth. I think it was one of the kids like me that The Demon wants to use."

Dean paused mid-bite and stared at Sam, a blank look in his eyes. It took Sam a moment to realize the problem.

"You didn't remember about my visions, did you?"

"Since when do you have visions?" Dean asked, putting his spoon down.

"Since I turned 22."

"When you were at college," Dean added. "So, when did I find out?"

"Not until after we'd been back hunting together for a few months. It was right before we went back to Lawrence." 

"We went back to Lawrence?" Dean asked, his voice betraying him. "To our house?"

Sam nodded. "There was a Poltergeist there attacking the family who lived there."

Dean stared down at the table, frowning. "Did I, I mean, was I-" Dean shook his head, sighing.

"You did fine, Dean. Your fears didn't interfere with the hunt," Sam said, knowing his brother's worries.

Dean looked back over at Sam. "Good." He drew in a breath before asking, "So, tell me about these visions you have."

"Well, like I said, they always involve The Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow."

"What Yellow-Eyed Demon?" Dean asked. "Is that one that we exorcised in the last two years?"

Sam was so surprised that he said nothing for a minute. It had never occurred to him that Dean would forget about The Demon. In the last year, The Yellow-Eyed Demon had constantly been in Sam's thoughts.

"Sam, what is it?" Dean asked.

"The Yellow-Eyed Demon is the one who killed Mom and Jess. He said that he had plans for me and the children like me."

"What kind of plans?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know. But he wants us to fight on his side in some kind of war."

Understandably, it was a lot to process. Dean stared ahead, into space, as if trying to make sense of all that Sam had just told him. "And Dad knew about this demon?" Dean finally asked.

"Yeah, for a little while anyway."

"Why didn't he write about it in his journal?"

"I don't know. Maybe he didn't actually figure out what it was until after he had left the journal for us." 

"Who attacks Elizabeth? Did you see the guy… in your vision?" 

"Yeah. He was controlling fire with his mind."

"But he's just a person, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, a person with powers."

"But bullets'll kill him."

"Yeah."

"Then we just have to shoot him. Did you load the guns from the trunk yet?"

"No, not yet. Dean, do you remember how to fire a weapon? 'Cause the last time you tried, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

Dean grinned. "You mean, the last time you saw me fire a weapon."

"You've been practicing since then?" 

Dean didn't answer, just stood and went toward the bedroom. Sam followed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"'Cause I knew you'd freak out if you knew I was going out of the apartment by myself."

"Did Elizabeth know?"

Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala from the nightstand and moved past Sam. "Yep."

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"She trusted me."

The implication wasn't lost on Sam. "I trust you, Dean. I'm just-"

"Worried about me. I know, Sam. But, don't. If you wanna worry, worry about Elizabeth. She's the one we have to save right now."

The boys went down to the Impala together and Dean popped the trunk and weapons compartment, propping it open with a shotgun. A minute later, Dean was loading pistols. The speed and ease with which Dean loaded the guns told Sam that Dean's skills had returned to him.

"You remember how to hunt," Sam said.

"I realized it when we went after the boogeyman."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Dean paused in his work and sighed. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it anymore."

Sam frowned. "But you're a hunter. You were born for this job. You always loved it."

"Maybe because I never had any other choices. This was what Dad wanted from me. I was just trying to make him happy."

Sam was shocked at the admission from his usually stoic brother. And for once, Sam didn't know what to say. Dean began loading the guns again and handed a couple to Sam before closing the Impala's trunk and going back to the apartment.

--------

By the time the boys returned to the apartment, Elizabeth was up and eating breakfast. "Did you sleep at all, Sam?" she asked.

"I'm okay," Sam said.

"Sam told you about his vision?" Elizabeth asked, looking to Dean.

Dean nodded. "We're gonna stop it." 

"I know you will," Elizabeth said.

"The man who attacks you is a pyrokinetic," Sam said.

"He starts fires with his mind," Elizabeth said. "I know the term. How do we stop him?"

"We kill him," Dean said, holding up his loaded gun. "Mental powers or not, he's still just a person, which means run-of-the-mill bullets will waste him."

"Why does a human want to kill me?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm not sure," Sam said.

"Maybe because Liz is interfering in his plans for you. I mean, that's why he killed Jessica, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam said, staring at his brother. "You remembered that?"

Dean frowned, staring ahead at nothing in particular. "Dad. It was in Dad."

"That's right," Sam said, nodding. "The demon possessed Dad."

Dean rubbed at his chest. "He tried to kill me." Dean didn't say that he remembered the pain, but Sam could tell from his face that he did.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, studying his brother.

Dean looked up. "I'm fine. That was months ago. Did you see where this guy killed Liz?"

Sam allowed the vision to replay through his mind. "It was inside this apartment."

"Any idea when?" 

Sam shook his head.

"Then we'll just have to wait it out," Dean said.

"Should I stay inside the apartment?" Elizabeth asked. "I mean, if I'm supposed to die here, wouldn't staying away prevent that?"

"He could just come after you somewhere else. At least, if we wait here, we can better control the outcome," Sam explained.

"Besides, once we waste him, you won't have to worry about him any more," Dean said.

"Okay. I trust you guys. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

--------

"Are you okay in there, Liz?" Sam asked, staring back at her.

"Yeah. I just feel a little silly."

Sam smiled. "I know. I'm sorry. We just think that this is the safest place for you."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. I understand. It makes sense. I just feel a little odd sitting in my bathtub."

"Look at the bright side," Dean said, from his post in the kitchen. "At least you'll have a hell of a story to write." 

"That's true," Elizabeth said, smiling. "Seems like I'm gaining a lot of those." 

Sam frowned and stared down.

A moment later, he heard Elizabeth speak again. "It's not your fault, Sam."

Sam whirled back around to face her. "But the reason you're in danger is because of me."

"But you both saved me from the Boogeyman and he was going to come after me regardless of whether you two showed up or not. Because of you two, I'm still alive." 

"But this man wouldn't be coming after you if I hadn't gotten close to you." 

"You don't know that. Maybe there's some other reason he's going to attack me. Maybe if I live, I'll interfere with the demon's plans in some other way."

Sam sighed. "Yeah."

"You're not buying it," Elizabeth said.

Sam shook his head. "But thanks for trying."

"Sam, if something happens to me--"

"Nothing's going to happen." 

Elizabeth stared at Sam with pleading eyes. "If something happens to me, I don't want you to blame yourself. Even if I had a choice, I wouldn't change a minute of this. Ever since you two came to stay with me, I've been happy again. After Rett died, I didn't think I'd ever be happy again. I would rather have these last few months being happy than a lifetime of being miserable. I need you to know that."

Sam stared at Elizabeth a minute, unsure how to reply. Finally, he nodded. "Thanks."

Elizabeth smiled.

And that was when they heard it, a rattling of the door knob. Sam and Dean took up their positions, guns aimed at the door, ready to waste whatever walked through it. All three tensed, watching as the locks to the door slowly turned. And then the door slid open.

"Ahh!"

"Mom?" Elizabeth asked from the doorway to the bathroom. Dean and Sam dropped their weapons. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

Mrs. Bryant stared from Sam to Dean. "I thought I would come by and take you lunch. You haven't come by the house since we talked days ago. And what did you two think you were doing? Why do you have guns in my daughter's apartment? Someone could get hurt! You could have shot me!"

"Mom, calm down," Elizabeth said, coming over to her mother. "They were just trying to protect me." 

"Protect you? From what?"

"Ma'am, we wouldn't have shot you. Dean and I know how to handle weapons. We wouldn't hurt an innocent person," Sam said, taking a step closer.

"You stay back!" Mrs. Bryant ordered. "I knew you two were bad news. You didn't even know them, Elizabeth. How could you allow them to stay here?"

"Mom, they've been staying here for two months. If they wanted to hurt me, they would have done it by now."

Mrs. Bryant grabbed her daughter's hand. "Elizabeth, you're coming back home with me. And you two had better be gone by the time the police get here." 

Elizabeth wrenched her hand free. "No, Mom! I'm not going with you. I can't. You just have to trust me."

Mrs. Bryant stared at her daughter. "What's happened that you need to be protected? What's going on? Tell me." 

"You wouldn't believe me. You never did."

"What? About monsters? Elizabeth, please, let's not have this argument again."

"Listen, I will explain everything to you later. But right now, you need to go home."

"I'm not leaving if you're in danger. We should call the police."

"The police can't help, Mom. They're as narrow-minded as you and Dad."

"What? Because we don't believe in those weird paranormal things you and your brother loved? Honey, those things are just figments of peoples' imaginations. They aren't real and I'm concerned if you believe that they are."

"You wouldn't understand," Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head.

"Elizabeth. What's happened to you?"

"I've learned things; seen things that you still believe aren't real. I've really seen them up close. But you still don't believe me."

"Seen them? Seen what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It matters to me."

Elizabeth stared at her mother. "Why?" 

"Because it's important to you."

"You don't think I'm crazy?" 

"Elizabeth, I've never thought that you were crazy. A little eccentric at times, perhaps, but not insane."

"Mom, listen, I don't have time to explain everything right now. Just go back home. And I promise that I will explain everything to you after this is over."

Mrs. Bryant frowned. "I can't just leave you. You're the only child I have left. I can't let anything happen to you."

"Sam and Dean are going to take care of me. Now, please, Mom, for once in your life, trust me. I don't want to see you get hurt, either."

Mrs. Bryant sighed and turned to Sam and Dean. "Do you swear to protect her? Can you promise me she won't get hurt?"

"We're going to do everything we can to keep her safe," Dean answered.

"But you can't promise that she won't get hurt."

"No," Sam said. "We can't."

"Sam! Dean!" Elizabeth yelled.

Both boys turned to see a man standing in the doorway of the apartment, grinning. Sam recognized him immediately as the man from his vision. "Liz, get back!" Sam ordered.

Elizabeth grabbed her mother and ran back to the bathtub.

"You're one of the Special Kids, like me, aren't you?"

The boy continued to smile, remaining silent.

"Why are you here?" Sam asked.

The boy held up a hand and the guns Sam and Dean were holding suddenly became red hot. Both Winchesters dropped their weapon before getting burned.

"Just following orders," the boy said.

From the bathroom, Mrs. Bryant screamed. Immediately, Dean and Sam heard water running.

"Liz!" Sam yelled. Turning back to the boy, he said, "You don't have to follow orders. You can fight it."

"Why would I want to do that? I'm stronger now than I've ever been. Ever since the Yellow-Eyed Man started coming to me in my dreams, my powers have gotten stronger. And he says this is just the beginning."

"He's a demon!" Sam said. "He's evil." 

"And he's on the winning side. I always side with the winners. I wouldn't do that," the boy said, looking over at Dean. Immediately, Dean grabbed the gun tucked in the back of his jeans, the gun he had slowly been reaching for while the boy talked. He fired off three bullets at the boy's chest.

But the bullets never met their target. Instead, they hit a wall of fire and melted on the floor in front of him. The boy looked up at Dean. "I told you you shouldn't have done that."

Dean felt the flames suddenly jump from his clothes and he dropped to the floor, rolling to put them out. Sam rushed to his brother, trying to put the flames out before they did serious damage.

The boy moved past the brothers toward the bathroom, taking small deliberate steps, as though he had all the time in the world. But before he made it to the bathroom, Sam tackled him, causing them both to hit the floor.

"You're as evil as he is," Sam said, punching the boy's face.

"Don't worry, you'll be just like us eventually," the boy answered. He wrapped his legs around Sam's using his position to pin Sam to the floor.

"I'll never be like you." 

"Don't sell yourself short, Sam. Of course you will. It's in your blood." The boy leaned down, pressing his forearm against Sam's neck, cutting off his air. "It just takes the right triggers."

Sam clawed at the boy's face and arms, struggling for one more breath. He knew he was losing the fight, though. Dark spots clouded his vision.

"Hey! It's me you want," Elizabeth said. "Leave him alone."

The boy loosened his grip on Sam, leaning back. And Sam could see that Elizabeth had left the safety of the bathroom. "No," he gasped.

"Losing you will push Sam over the edge. The Yellow-Eyed Man said it was just the right trigger to bring him over with us. That and, of course, once I kill Dean."

The boy stared at Elizabeth and flames shot up around her. The boy pushed Sam's head until he could see Elizabeth trapped. "It's much more fun doing it the slow way," the boy said. "This way, you get to see them really suffer. See how the flames are closing in around her. Soon, she'll panic and the flames will crawl over her skin, searing any flesh and melting her clothes to her body. And when I'm done with her, I'll do the same to your brother and you can have a front row seat for both. Then, you'll be ready."

Sam struggled, but the boy had him pinned with only enough oxygen to keep him conscious, not enough to fight back. And Sam knew that it would only be a matter of time before he succumbed to the darkness. This man would kill Elizabeth and Dean, just as he had promised to do. And Sam could do nothing to stop him.

"_Leave her alone!_"

The voice was sharp and filled the apartment. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. For the first time since entering the apartment, the boy seemed shaken off guard. The flames around Elizabeth disappeared as he stared around.

"Who said that?" he demanded. But there was no reply.

The sudden slack allowed Sam to throw the boy backward. But the boy quickly refocused on Sam, already starting to come after him when a shot rang out. This time, the boy wasn't ready for it and the bullet pierced his chest. A moment later, the crimson stain spread across his shirt and he fell to the ground.

Sam looked over to see that Dean was propped up again the wall, holding a gun in his hand. "Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded.

"Liz?" Sam asked, standing to go to her.

"I'm okay," she said.

Sam sighed in relief and bent to check the pulse of the man who had threatened them all.

"Is he dead?" Elizabeth asked.

Sam nodded.

"So, it's over?" 

"It's over," Dean said.

"Elizabeth, what happened?" Mrs. Bryant asked from her position in the doorway to the bathroom.

"Um, it's hard to explain. That man was a psychic. He could start fires with his mind. But he was still only human. And Sam and Dean did what they promised to do: they stopped him and kept me safe."

Sam was already inspecting his brother, who had sustained the worst burns. Dean's two shirts were burned, but the flames hadn't yet reached his skin underneath when they were extinguished. Dean's bare arms were another story. The flames had reached them easily and did visible damage.

"Dean, we need to get you to the hospital," Sam said. He lifted his brother to his feet and led him to the kitchen sink, where he began running cold water over the burns. "Dean, give me your ring and your watch."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"The burns could cause swelling. You should probably take off your necklace, too."

Dean slowly removed his watch and then his ring. Finally he pulled his necklace off and handed them all to Sam. "Don't lose them," Dean said.

Sam smiled. "I won't."

Elizabeth was already reaching for the phone and calling an ambulance.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" Sam asked, looking Elizabeth over for any signs of burns.

"I'm sure. The first time he tried, I was already under the shower faucet. The flames were out before they had time to do any damage. The second time, the flames started around me, but they went out before they ever actually touched me. What about you? I thought he was going to suffocate you."

Sam's neck was sore and he was certain he would soon have a bruise from the pressure applied to his windpipe. "I'm okay. You shouldn't have left the shower."

"What was I supposed to do? Watch him kill you? You've risked your life to save me. Why am I not allowed to do the same?"

"You weren't trained--" Sam started.

"I don't care. I love you, Sam. That's all that matters. Besides, we all came out okay."

"What should we do now?" Mrs. Bryant asked, staring at the dead boy. "Is he… um, is he human? Do we call the police, or…"

Sam nodded. "You should call the police. Tell them that this man tried to break into your home and set fires." Sam wiped off a lighter and placed it in the man's front pocket.

"What about the guns?" Elizabeth asked.

Sam quickly gathered all of the weapons, but one gun. "These will go in the Impala's locked trunk." 

Elizabeth took the other gun, wiped it clean and then held it. "I'll say I shot him. It's best if you two aren't involved." 

Sam nodded. "Are you sure you can handle this?" 

Elizabeth was already placing the gun in the dead man's hands, smudging both sets of prints. "I'll say that he brought the gun, we struggled for it and I managed to shoot him."

"Well, don't forget to--" Sam started, but Elizabeth was already removing the casing of each bullet and wiping them down, putting only the man's fingerprints on them.

"Wow," Sam said, staring at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked up and grinned. "I watch a lot of Law and Order. The details are always what get people. Don't worry, Sam. I'll take care of it. I'm a writer, remember? I can be convincing."

While Sam ran the weapons back to the Impala, Mrs. Bryant stared around blankly at the scene.

"Mom, are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know what to say." 

"When the police get here, just let me handle it. Pretend to be in shock and they won't question you right away. We'll tell them to take your statement later and that will give us time to work it out."

"You're so much more than I ever guessed," Mrs. Bryant said, staring up at her daughter. "I'm sorry I never realized it until now."

Elizabeth just smiled, having finished readying the crime scene, and bent down to wait with Dean. Sam arrived back about the same time they heard the sirens approaching.

Dean laughed.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked.

"Two ambulance rides in two days for two different injuries. That's gotta be a record."

**Author's Notes:** Okay, I didn't leave you with a cliffhanger for once. I could have and I really considered it, but I felt bad 'cause I made you wait so long. So, please don't be angry with me. And give me your reviews. Because the reviews are what get me pumped to write the next chapters.

This story is almost finished. Probably two more chapters. So, just hang on. The story is winding down. I promise.


End file.
